


A Literal Human Unicorn

by MsPooslie, ransomdrysdale, starbunny



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (Not) Another Stucky Big Bang 2020, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family, Bakery, Baking, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, NASBB2020, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pining, Podfic, Podfic Available, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unicorns, but no actual porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27614959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPooslie/pseuds/MsPooslie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ransomdrysdale/pseuds/ransomdrysdale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbunny/pseuds/starbunny
Summary: Bucky Barnes could deal with many things. Seventy years of torture by Hydra? No problem. Aliens invading New York? Also not a problem. But an actual walking unicorn? Now, that was way above his pay grade, and he wanted nothing to do with it.The reason was very simple. Unicorns were creatures of pure good, and Bucky was practically everything but that. In fact, with his bloody history in mind, the only attention he would get from the holy creature was a whole load of horse shit dumped on his face (if it didn’t trample him to death out of sheer disgust first).Then one fine day, a tiny blond man named Steve suddenly showed up at the Avengers tower, armed with bright blue eyes and free samples of apple pie to celebrate the opening of his brand-new café. Steve was cheerful, sweet and kind, the definition of a literal human unicorn, and Bucky was about to find out just how literal that was.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 180
Kudos: 358
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to all the mods of NASBB for planning this! This year has been a tough year for everyone, so all the time and effort you guys put into this is definitely greatly appreciated. None of this would have been possible without you guys! <3 
> 
> Thank you to [Aeremaee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeremaee) for being a beta reader! I was stuck at multiple points in this fic, and without your comments and suggestions, I definitely would not have been able to finish writing this fic at all. Thank you for spending so much time reading the fic and fixing all the horrendous mistakes there :P 
> 
> Next, thank you to [MsPooslie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPooslie) for picking this fic to make art for. I'm still in awe at how you managed to create everything in Illustrator. I just absolutely love all the little details you put into the art. From the fire effects to the facial expression on the unicorn, you can definitely tell how much effort and time went into bringing this art piece to life! 
> 
> Also thank you to [ransomdrysdale (aka jenofithilien)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ransomdrysdale) for creating a podfic for this. You have a really lovely voice and I'm completely blown away by all the hard work you put into this. Recording, editing and putting in all the sound effects for the podfic really isn't an easy job, but the final product turned out to be absolutely amazing!
> 
> Lastly, thank you to everyone who decided to give this fic a chance and read it. Your support means the world to me :)
> 
> [ **Listen to A Literal Human Unicorn here.** ](https://www.spreaker.com/show/a-literal-human-unicorn)  
> 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/sevenmarie/50617156747/in/dateposted-friend/)

  
Not for the first time, Bucky wondered how and why he ended up in this exact spot in space and time. Joining a wacky boyband (plus one murderous redhead) and fighting off actual alien invasions had never been on his bucket list, but then again, neither had getting tortured by Hydra and turned into a living weapon for seventy years, so… Joke’s on him, then. 

Still.

Fighting off an endless swarm of these obnoxious, _annoying_ flying bat alien-things was a bit over the top, no?

At that very moment, the comms buzzed to life.

“BARTON!” Stark shrieked, blaster fire echoing in the background. “I don’t know where you passed your fucking mathematics, but _six_ does not classify as a _few!!_ ”

“It’s a few! It’s less than _ten!_ ”

“FUCK YOU!!” Stark cursed as he swooped across the skyline with said few—no, _six_ —flying bat alien-things hot on his tail. 

Bucky twisted over and pulled the trigger, sending one flying bat alien-thing plummeting to the ground with an indignant screech. 

“Thanks, Buckbeak!”

What the hell was a Buckbeak?

Bucky shook his head and shot down another flying bat alien-thing—they seriously needed to come up with a better name for those things.

At that very moment, a flying bat alien-thing dove down and screamed into his ear, practically destroying both his eardrums in a single go. Bucky slapped it aside with a growl, stomping it to the ground for good measure until it finally, _thankfully_ went motionless (and soundless). 

Fucking banshee demons.

 _Banshee demons,_ that’s what they were getting called now.

Another screech came as a second banshee demon swooped down with claws out, obviously learning nothing from the pile of mush on the floor that had just tried the same thing. Bucky promptly rewarded its stupidity by turning it into a matching pile of mush just beside. Idiot.

And just seconds later of course a _third_ banshee demon had to come and try the _exact_ _same thing_ , because clearly their brains hadn’t received as much robust development as their damned vocal chords. 

Well, it didn’t matter. _Three_ piles of mush were better than two anyway.

With a grunt, Bucky raised his metal arm and got straight down to business. Shoot and kill. Rinse and repeat. 

It took another two hours before they finally cleared the entire swarm of banshee demons, and when the last creature was squished to death by Hulk, Stark gave the order for the Avengers to start regrouping back at Times Square.

Bucky hopped off his rooftop and headed down.

The city was empty, citizens long evacuated until the Avengers gave the all-clear, and the streets were covered with a fresh coat of debris and dust (and corpses)—all of which should honestly be considered a permanent fixture in New York at this point, maybe even a tourist attraction.

Bucky absently kicked a corpse away and jogged down, meeting up with Natasha.

She lifted a single perfect eyebrow at him in greeting. Bucky nodded back. A hundred words exchanged in a single look.

Natasha shrugged before breaking into a jog and Bucky followed suit, watching the way her hair tossed from side to side with each step. Still as immaculate as ever, not a strand out of place. Bucky had no idea how she managed that. His hair looked like it had gone through a meat grinder twice before getting jammed into a blender. A soppy, moppy, tangled mess.

Hawkeye—Barton—joined them two blocks later, grumbling something about his breakfast which Natasha snorted at and Bucky promptly ignored, because there was little Barton said on a daily basis that was worth paying attention to, and small talk was just the worst thing in the world anyway.

Another block later, they finally met up with the rest of the gang.

“And last as per usual, our three murderous musketeers!” Stark announced, faceplate lifted.

“Hey, not all of us can fly, alright?”

“Hulk can’t fly, and he’s still third.”

“I was second,” Thor felt the need to add.

At the same moment Hulk roared, “Hulk no need to fly. Hulk only _SMASH!”_

Hulk stomped his foot down, making the ground shake precariously. Bucky tightened his grip on his gun instinctively.

“Woah—”

“Yeah buddy, smash,” Barton said quickly, patting Hulk’s elbow. “That’s awesome. You do you, yeah?”

The green giant snorted and let his foot down, seemingly appeased. Natasha shot a glare at Stark, who gave an apologetic shrug back. Then Stark grinned again, clapping his hands together once.

“So. Avengers 37, aliens 0. Still a perfect track record! Go team!” Stark clapped again. “Though I have to say, not a huge fan of the demon bats this time. Vile and ugly with sharp claws? Ugh. And not forgetting their horrible, _horrible_ demon-y screams. Hey JARVIS, make a note to add sound-dampening to the next suit? And if you could also send a message to the universe that the Earth is permanently closed to all demon bats and related screaming cousins, that’d be gre—”

“Stark,” Natasha sighed.

“—and where was I? Oh, right. Debrief. Because I’m the awesome leader of the team! So anyway, aliens down, we win, new evacuation protocol working great, no casualties reported, and the all-clear will be given in the next hour or so! Great! So now for the mandatory Fury-instated post-battle review—which by the way, is still as stupid and useless as ever, though today there’s actually some use to it. Like getting Barton here a proper math education—”

“Hey!”

“—because as good as his aim is, he obviously still can’t count to ten.”

“You’re the one that needs to learn to count! Six is less than ten an—”

“Learn to count? Please. For your information, I built my first circuit board when I was four, my first engine at seven, and then I went to MIT when I was—”

“Yeah yeah, we heard this damn story before.” Barton rolled his eyes. “Next you’ll be talking about the number of—”

“—and I have so many PhDs that I don’t keep count anymore but if you want an actual number is actually—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Natasha cut in with a sigh. “Let’s just—” 

She suddenly jerked to the side, eyebrows furrowing. “What… is that?”

Everyone turned.

And there, down the junction amidst the rubble and destruction, stood a pure white four-legged creature, somehow actually _glowing_ despite it being the hottest, brightest day of summer. The animal—unmistakably a horse—tilted its head curiously, blinking once, and instantly, Bucky was completely entranced.

He didn’t know what it was that drew him in; the almost ethereal, mystical way the fur glittered, or the mane of dazzling gold, like liquid sunshine melted and weaved into the finest, silkiest of hairs, or even the eyes of pure blue, the whole sky and ocean crystallised within, sparkling bright.

“It’s a unicorn,” Thor said, almost a whisper.

“Did you just say… _unicorn?_ ” Stark asked.

“Indeed.” Thor nodded solemnly. “There is no beast in all nine realms more magnificent than the unicorn. Those who have actually glimpsed of the creature are far and beyond, but the stories all share one thing in common: they only appear to those with a pure heart, steadfast and strong.” Thor started to laugh. “My friends, to catch the attention of one is truly an honour. We must celebrate this occasion!”

Bucky stared at where the unicorn stood, truly beauty and perfection personified, and back at Thor, because the fact was this:

If what Thor said was true, then given Bucky’s history, the only attention he would get from this holy magical creature was a full load of horse shit dumped on his face (assuming it didn’t trample him to death out of sheer disgust first).

Well, good was vastly overrated anyway.

And then the unicorn blinked once more, before simply vanishing into thin air, leaving behind nothing but a trail of glittery magic.

Stark immediately turned to Thor, eyes wide.

“Okay, I’m sold. How do I get one?”

\----------

It felt like an eternity since the Avengers first shut down Project Insight, with Bucky plummeting into the Potomac river after being shot by a single repulsor blast, left to sink and drown in the cold dark waters below.

That was the very moment when something, some last cell in Bucky’s brain suddenly flickered on.

A flash. A memory. A _name. His_ name. He was… a _something_. A person?

And Bucky somehow found the strength to kick out, propelling himself back to land, coughing violently as he broke the surface and took a breath of fresh air, the very first breath he’d taken in a long, _long_ time.

It was like being reborn into the world, and he was but a child, lost and confused with nowhere to go. What was happening to him? Who was he? What the fuck was wrong with him?

He had a million questions but zero answers, and when he heard Iron Man’s tell-tale rocket jets in the distance, he immediately jolted back to reality, pushing aside the whole scrambled mess in his head and reinstating one simple objective at the very top.

_Run._

And that’s exactly what Bucky did, escaping from Hydra (and the Avengers), removing all his trackers and starting the long, painful journey of taking his life back.

It had taken months, and more months still before he finally referred to himself as a ‘he’ and not an ‘it’, but he slowly re-learned to be a person. To eat, drink, sleep, remember, and most importantly, to _feel._

The very first emotion to come back to him was fear, chilling and suffocating as he woke up gasping for seemingly the billionth time, and that cold feeling had been closely followed by something deeper, hotter, overwhelming, until Bucky felt like he was going to erupt and paint the whole room—the whole world—in red.

 _Rage_.

That was when Bucky picked up his guns and knives again, and in the dead of the night, he stormed the closest Hydra hideout and set it on fire. Then he went on to the next. And the next. On and on. Seventy years worth of Hydra intelligence inside his head. Seventy years of Hydra to burn to the ground.

Until Rumlow surfaced and the legendary Winter Soldier finally had prey to chase once more.

One last mission. One last target.

\----------

The unicorn made its second surprise appearance two weeks later, in the aftermath of another long, tedious battle.

It was Mad Scientist Experiment Gone Wrong Day, and a herd of chimeras was let loose in New York, spitting out globs of deadly acid that melted everything in its path, including Stark’s armour (made of a special blend of titanium alloy, which the genius fussed and whined about at least fifty times throughout the whole battle).

But three hours in and the mad scientist in question was finally in handcuffs, his chimera creations all either disintegrated or shot full of holes.

And that was when they spotted the unicorn.

Standing down the street at the crossroads, just like the first time they saw it, with its tail swishing from side to side. It wasn’t looking at them, bright blue eyes focused on something in the distance. Its mane was almost shining, a glittery shade of gold all sunlight melted over, and Bucky couldn’t help but be completely mesmerised yet again. How could something this beautiful exist in the world? 

The unicorn trotted over to a fallen lamppost, sniffing it once, before looking back up at them. It watched them for a bit and cocked its head to the side curiously, then, in the blink of an eye, vanished just like before.

Stark started to curse to himself about ‘missing his chance’, while Thor looked like he was about to start crying tears of joy. Hulk (or Banner) was MIA, the murder twins looked intrigued but not particularly interested, and Bucky simply couldn’t care less, more than ready to go back and take a nice long nap. 

He knew it was probably his loud obnoxious breathing that chased away the unicorn anyway. 

\----------

It took two years before Bucky finally managed to put a bullet through that bastard Rumlow’s skull, deep within a basement somewhere in Siberia.

His last known handler was now officially dead, but there was no peace to be found, and all he felt after the shot was fired was sheer emptiness. Cold. Nothing. Because—

_What now?_

What was his purpose after all this?

And it suddenly struck Bucky right then, on the cold metal floor, just how much Hydra had taken from him, turning him into this mindless puppet that knew nothing but to hunt, to stalk. Prey, predator, what was he if not those things? _Who_ was he?

Bucky left the lifeless body there and managed to hobble a few steps away before he basically collapsed to the ground and folded himself into a tiny corner, completely ignoring the pool of blood he was currently sitting in—not his, but blood was still _blood_. 

What had Hydra done to him?

Who was he?

And oh god—

What had he done to all those people? Those innocents? Men, women, children, even a fucking _dog_ once. What kind of _monster_ did they turn him into?

Bucky had no idea how long he sat there, but he heard a crash and his instincts got a gun raised in the air in no time flat, pointing dead centre into the bluish glowing light of none other than Iron Man. Tony Stark. Leader of the Avengers. Enemy. Closely followed by the rest of the Avengers. Thor, Hawkeye, Black Widow.

“Well, this is awkward,” Iron Man said, looking towards Rumlow’s dead body. “Disagreement in the family?”

Bucky kept the gun up, unblinking.

“I mean, I’m totally bulletproof here but you’re very welcome to try.”

Enemy, his mind was screaming. Shoot him. Enemy. Target. Shoot. Kill, kill.

But his heart was gone, he was done, he was nothing, and the gun dropped away.

He was ready for the end. 

There was a long silence.

“Say,” Iron Man started, robotic voice somehow having a softer inflection to it. “It can’t be comfortable sitting in all that blood. Unless you bathe in it? Do you? It’s probably a kink for some people, which in that case, no judgement whatsoever. You do you.”

There was another silence.

“Hello? Anyone home? Knock knock?”

Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t care anymore.

“Well, most people would respond with ‘Who’s there?’ but I guess jokes weren’t a huge part of Hydra’s teaching curriculum?” Iron Man waited for a response, which didn’t come. Then he sighed and turned to his teammates. “Okay, anyone else want to try?”

Black Widow stepped forth.

“Soldier. Mission report.”

Bucky flinched. He couldn’t not. Then he looked up. 

“James,” he found himself saying. _It’s James, not, not–_

“James?” Iron Man asked in disbelief. “What does Rhodey have to do with anything?”

“No, that’s not it,” Black Widow said, stepping even closer. “ _James._ Your name. You remember.”

Bucky blinked once.

There was yet another silence.

“Okay, James, that’s fantastic and all, but how about we have a chat elsewhere that’s not next to a dead body soaked in blood?”

\----------

The third time they saw the unicorn was nearly a month later, this time in the middle of a battle with a—wait for it—giant centipede, with metal teeth and needle-sharp legs with a stabbing tendency worse than Bucky attempting to go cold turkey off caffeine for twenty-four hours. 

“Okay,” Stark said as he started loading up his missiles. “Just another normal day in New York with totally normal alien visitors—” And the centipede spontaneously sprouted two ginormous _flaming_ wings and took to the air. “—WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Bucky stared. Natasha stared. Barton stared. Hulk roared a loud “YES! SMASH!!” in the distance, pumping his fists into the air.

“Huh. So is it like a moth or a butterfly now? My bet’s on a butterfly,” Barton said.

“DO I LOOK LIKE I FUCKING CARE?!” Stark yelled into the comms, zipping through the air to escape the now airborne giant moth-butterfly’s fiery wing attacks.

“You’re a man of science. It’s your job to care!” Barton shouted back.

“LESS GAWKING AND MORE SHOOTING, PLEASE!”

Barton chuckled but did as he was told, settling down on the rooftop and firing off a series of explosive shots into the moth-butterfly. Bucky did the same with his gun.

“You boys stay here. I’m heading down to the library. Not all the citizens there have been evacuated yet.”

A string of unintelligible curses came from Stark, which Natasha chose to interpret as avid consent, and she vaulted off the rooftop, disappearing out of Bucky’s view. 

Bucky fired off a grenade that detonated right in the moth-butterfly’s eyeball, stunning it for a second.

“Nice shot!” Stark yelled as he launched a barrage of missiles at the moth-butterfly’s squishy body. Thor swooped in from above with a heavy lightning strike, burning a giant hole through the moth-butterfly’s wing while Hulk attempted to rip it apart with his bare hands.

The moth-butterfly screeched, newly enraged, easily knocking over a nearby building like a domino.

“Add a couple millions to damage costs, why not?” Stark grumbled and loaded up a new set of missiles.

Another three grenades later and things seemed to be going smoothly. Probably another ten minutes or so before the monster was put down permanently and Bucky could go back to taking a nice long nap or eating an entire tub of chocolate ice cream. Maybe he should do both. Yeah, that worked too.

But of course the universe had other plans, because he looked through the scope after loading the next bomb and suddenly spotted—

A pair of trembling blonde pigtails wandering down the street, attached to the head of a tiny human child wailing at the top of her lungs.

“Fuck!” Bucky cursed.

“Woah, what?” Barton asked.

At that very moment, the now blinded moth-butterfly crashed into another building, sending an avalanche of debris and broken glass pouring down from the sky. The kid started crying even louder, utterly terrified.

“Kid on 42nd street!” Bucky yelled, immediately jumping off his perch and scaling down to the ground. Oh god, oh god, _oh god,_ please let him make it—

A unanimous “FUCK!” resounded through the comms from everyone (except Thor—the Asgardian seemed practically incapable of swearing for whatever reason).

Bucky sprinted forward, vaulting across an overturned car and jumping ahead and oh god, there was the fucking kid—

Another thunderous crash. Fresh new blocks of debris dropped down. A shadow loomed over the tiny child. He could already hear the cut off scream—

Bucky’s instincts took over.

The next thing he knew, he was crouched over the kid, tightly wrapping himself around the small wriggling ball of life with his metal arm raised up to block—

There was no impending crash. No impact. No pain. The kid was still breathing, all two pigtails accounted for.

Bucky’s eyes flew open, and his jaw immediately dropped.

It was the fucking unicorn, shimmering like that goddamn vampire from that what’s-the-name movie. Its pearly horn was glowing _,_ surrounded in a mystical blue light which—

A breath immediately caught in Bucky’s throat as he peered up slowly, very conscious of the dark shadow still looming above him.

There was a gigantic block of concrete _floating_ over him like a cloud, bathed in the same blue light the unicorn was exuding, just mere inches away from his breakable fragile human skull (serum-enhanced or not).

The unicorn snorted softly, bright blue eyes fixated on him. Bucky snapped back to reality, grabbing the kid and leaping out of the pancake-smashing zone.

Bucky set the girl down gently—or at least he _tried_ to—because the tiny child had decided to glue herself to him permanently, somehow worming her way through all eighteen leather straps of his uniform, slobbering and wailing uncontrollably.

“Kid, it’s okay,” he tried comforting, though it came out gruff and scratchy and every bit _not_ comforting. The kid wailed even louder, burying deeper into his chest. The unicorn drew closer, hooves pattering lightly. It snorted softly again, and Bucky felt a soft breeze of warm air against the back of his neck. He stilled, not daring to move, and when he finally had the courage to turn around, the unicorn was gone, no trace of sunny gold hair or blue sparkles in sight.

“BARNES?!” Stark called.

“The kid’s fine,” Bucky said into the comms, still unable to de-latch the screaming human koala from his body. This was a feat more impossible than shaking off seventy years of Hydra brainwashing. “Hey kid, it’s alright,” he tried to tell the trembling pigtails again, but to no avail.

“The butterfly’s down for the count too,” Barton announced, and Bucky shifted his gaze up to the twitching pile of monster goo in the distance, freshly dispatched.

Stark’s jets drew closer and he promptly landed beside Bucky, faceplate coming up.

“What happened here?!” He gestured at the giant block of debris deposited just a few inches away.

“The unicorn happened,” Bucky said, and he felt real stupid saying it, because seriously… a _unicorn?_

Stark gave the giant block a thoughtful glance and whistled once. “Damn, now I want one even more,” he said, and then paused for a bit. “Do you think Glitter Houdini would appreciate carrots?” 

\----------

Bucky was allowed to keep a single knife on him when he was taken to Avengers towers, and he was immediately ushered into—not a cell, but a spacious room to wash up and get changed in. They fed him, asked him a few questions, then mostly left him alone in the room— _his_ room, apparently—to rest, and well… think.

Thinking took a couple of weeks, and Bucky slowly started to remember. Things from the past. Names, friends, family.

He remembered never liking the name ‘James’, preferring to be called by his nickname ‘Bucky’. 

He remembered going into war many years ago, getting captured by Hydra the first time round and being injected with a bunch of chemicals that lit his veins on fire in some insane scientist’s attempt to create a super soldier (which unfortunately succeeded, unbeknownst to him). 

Then he remembered getting rescued by the Howling Commandos, led by Dum Dum Dugan at the time, then subsequently joining them and going on countless missions to tear down Hydra until— 

The train. 

The cold. 

Getting captured by Hydra the second time round. 

And then jolts of electricity and flashes of red, surrounded by the ever pungent metallic stench of blood. A myriad of faces, all silenced by a single round from his sniper rifle. 

Then one day, he woke up with tears streaming down his face, the name _Stark_ burnt into his mind. A different Stark. A friend, from before. God, what had he done?

“I killed your parents,” he confessed later that day, when Iron Man—Tony Stark—came in to check on him. He deserved to know.

Bucky didn’t know what he expected; a bullet in the head, a slap, at the very least a glare, but Stark did none of those things. He just looked at Bucky, face unchanging. “I know,” Stark finally said after a few tense seconds, then started clicking buttons on his tablet. “So, any colour preferences, popsicle stick?”

Bucky blinked at him.

“For your uniform, come on, you gotta keep up here. We discussed all this yesterday!”

Bucky shook his head dumbly.

“So hot pink then? I think magenta would work very well with all—” Stark gestured vaguely towards Bucky’s disaster excuse of himself. “— _that_ … going on.”

Something flickered to life inside Bucky, and he suddenly twitched, facial muscles pulling and pushing in ways he no longer recognised, until it settled. Not frowning exactly, but not smiling either.

“Pink’s _great_ ,” Bucky replied flatly, testing the tone on his tongue. It felt… right, like a missing piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

Stark looked up from the tablet, blinking once and uncharacteristically silent for a second. Then he started to smirk.

“Huh, that’s a first.”

And just two weeks after that, Bucky quickly re-discovered the wonders and joys of something called eye-rolling. And sarcasm.

It was the best thing in the world ever.

[ **Listen to Chapter One.** ](https://www.spreaker.com/user/ransomdrysdale/unicorn-chapter-1)


	2. Chapter 2

Meeting the unicorn during and after battles became routine, so much so that even news agencies and subsequently the public picked up on it, coming up with all sorts of rumours about the mysterious creature.

"It's a spy sent by the aliens to scout the planet for future invasions!" was one of the more ridiculous ones, closely followed by, "It's a ploy, it's actually a robotic horse made by Stark Industries to wage war on the rest of the world!"

But no one, not even Thor, could explain why the unicorn popped up in the first place, or how its magic worked, or really, how it existed in the first place, because the sheer amount of glitter rainbows oozing out from it surely had to be breaking some unspoken law of the universe. Though no one was really complaining about the sudden appearance of the mystical shiny horse either, seeing as it had a knack for doing Avenger-y things and saving innocent civilians from peril. 

See exhibit one: saving a pair of twins in a typhoon by huddling them close and then glowing so bright that Iron Man spotted them almost instantly through the storm, quickly flying over and getting them to safety. 

Or exhibit two: getting a middle aged man to safety from a collapsed building using its sparkly voodoo powers to levitate all the surrounding debris as if they were little cotton balls instead of giant hunks of concrete that even Thor would struggle to lift.

And finally, exhibit three, which officially established the unicorn's new status as a proud ally of the Avengers. 

It started like this: 

A mission gone wrong. 

A bomb exploding. 

“CLINT!!” 

Bucky never heard Natasha lose composure like that before, and he sure as hell didn’t want to hear that ever again. 

There was another loud bang, and all of them could do nothing but watch in horror as the building in front of them fell apart and burst into flames, just minutes after Barton recklessly jumped in to rescue a civilian despite Stark barking at him to stay put. 

The civilian made it out seconds before the explosion. 

Barton did not. 

“CLINT!” Natasha yelled again, voice cracking. 

There was no response, not even a buzz through the comms. Natasha swore out loud, leaping towards the flaming wreck. 

“Natash—” 

She dodged Stark’s attempt to pull her back, sliding past easily and sprinting ahead. 

“Fuck— It’s too dangerous! _Natasha!_ ” Stark shouted, his rocket jets bursting to life to catch up to her. “God, JARVIS, scan the area, now!” 

Bucky followed suit as well, heart starting to race. 

He may not be as close to Barton as the others, but he wasn’t heartless, and Barton was still a good friend that spent countless nights armed with endless small talk and snacks to distract Bucky from his never-ending nightmares.

“ _CLINT!!_ ” Natasha screamed yet again, scanning the area, which was now covered in smoke and debris. 

Again no response. 

"Perhaps I can be of assista—" 

"No, Thor, it's too dangerous! Just get back. _Fuck!_ JARVIS, do you—”

There was a loud shrill neigh, and everyone immediately looked up. 

Through the cloud of smoke and dust, Bucky clearly recognised the familiar horse silhouette trotting up towards them, tell-tale horn peeking out from the top of its head. 

“What the—”

Then Bucky caught sight of a lump draped across the unicorn’s back, most definitely human-shaped, and— 

“Oh god, _Clint!_ ” Natasha dashed forward to the horse to pull him off, gently lowering him to the ground. 

“Nice horsey,” Barton croaked, coughing a few times. The unicorn snorted in response, pawing on the ground and swishing its tail to the side. 

“Fucking hell, Barton!” Stark yelled, thinly veiled annoyance mostly superseded by relief. “I told you to stay put!!” 

“Is that care and concern I hear from you, Stark?” Barton laughed, then promptly winced and curled into himself. “Ah— _Fuck_. Fucking ribs!” 

“Dr Cho is already on stand-by at the tower,” Stark said, bending down and raising a hand over Barton’s body. “JARVIS, scan.” A white light emitted out of Stark’s palm, sweeping over Barton from head to toe. “Okay, hit me, J.” A pause. “Wait, _four_ broken ri—” Stark and Natasha immediately jerked back to Barton, donning an expression that would put even the darkest thunderclouds to shame. 

“Eep,” Barton squeaked, visibly swallowing. “But h–hey? I still have twenty unbroken ones, right?!” 

Even the unicorn managed to look entirely unimpressed at that, and it was a _horse._

\----------

Once Bucky finally got his newly designed uniform, it still took a few more months before he was officially approved to be on the field with the Avengers and to join them on their missions. 

One of the prerequisites had been to get the approval of each and every Avenger, which Bucky honestly thought was impossible to get after everything that he’d done. 

Stark basically vouched for him when he first designed Bucky’s new uniform and showed him blueprints for a new arm he was making, one that would have less pain and more importantly, no association to Hydra whatsoever. 

Black Widow was the second to give her approval.

“Do you remember me?” she asked one morning, strolling into his room. 

Bucky looked at her carefully, eyes focusing on her hair in particular. That shade of red was familiar, and maybe her eyes were familiar too, but when Bucky tried to rack his brains to put them together, he drew a complete blank. 

Bucky shook his head. 

“That’s fine,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It was many years ago. You tried to help me escape the Red Room.”

He did? 

“It didn’t work, but you still tried.” 

There was a silence, before Black Widow spoke again. 

“Do you want to spar? I can get us a couple hours in the gym downstairs.” 

It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion if Bucky was going to maintain his training and go back into the field, but he immediately froze on the spot, a cold chill running down his spine. 

He knew Black Widow could definitely hold her ground, but the thought of throwing a punch her way—sparring or not—still made him feel ill to the stomach. It may have been a few years since Project Insight when Bucky had been fighting her with an actual intent to kill, but it certainly didn’t feel that long to him. 

Black Widow clearly picked up on his hesitance, and she simply shrugged her shoulders again.

“Maybe not today.” 

It took another few weeks before Bucky finally agreed to spar, and when she knocked him over and pinned him down with a frankly unfair move that used his own weight against him, something inside Bucky’s head flickered on. 

“Natalia,” he said. 

Black Widow— _Natalia_ —blinked. 

“You remember.” 

“You were… smaller?” Bucky frowned. “Younger.” 

Natalia nodded, getting off him and offering a hand to help him up. Bucky took it, jumping back up on his feet for round two. 

“I was,” she confirmed with a small smile on her face. “It’s Natasha now though.” 

Bucky frowned again, gears in his head starting to turn. 

“Did I teach you that move?” 

“You did. Works like a charm, doesn’t it?” 

Natasha smiled, and the next day, she gave her approval for him to join the team. 

Next was Hawkeye—Clint Barton. 

He was a friend first before he became a colleague, often coming in to talk to Bucky after some of his more intense nightmares, softly sharing about his own experience with Loki and being brainwashed in the early hours of the morning. 

He introduced Bucky to different flavours of pizza, taught him how to play video games, and one day, he came knocking on Bucky’s door with Natasha at his side. 

“Hey, sniper buddy. Wanna go to the shooting range for a round or two?” 

Bucky caught the meaning behind that easily enough. Natasha already tested his combat skills, so it made sense for Hawkeye to want to test out his shooting skills. 

And so he agreed. 

What he didn’t expect was to get spontaneously thrown into a paintball match between the three of them and the rest of the Avengers. 

“I made a bet, you see,” Barton said as an explanation. “Three of us against the rest of them, and they are free to use all the equipment they need; the suit, Mjolnir, or even Hulk’s err, _Hulk-ness_ , whatever they want.” 

A few hours later, Bucky walked away with exactly a hundred dollars and two strawberry pop-tarts as the prize for completely thrashing the other team. 

“Oh man, you should have seen Stark’s face. That was amazing! You made some really sick shots today! You definitely need to show me a thing or two next time.” 

Bucky simply nodded, and Barton grinned at him. 

Barton gave his approval shortly after that (and also Hulk, who was seemingly impressed by Bucky’s 'pea shooting' skills). 

Thor was next in line. 

He didn’t really do much to test Bucky’s worth—certainly not with Mjolnir, no. He just offered a plate of misshapen pancakes to Bucky one morning after a rather difficult night, saying, “I find sugar often helps to soothe the hurts of the soul.” 

Bucky took the pancakes and dutifully drenched them in maple syrup under the watchful eye of Thor. After he finished the entire stack and started to feel a little bit better, Thor placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You are a brave warrior, my friend. Do remember that.”

Without another word, Thor walked out. Later, Bucky was informed that Thor announced his approval for Bucky to join the team—a very zealous announcement, according to Natasha.

Last of all was Bruce Banner, Hulk’s less murderous, more jumpy, but extremely intelligent counterpart. 

They avoided each other like the plague at first, for good reason. 

Both of them on their own were already like a delicate chemical reaction, a few seconds away from erupting. Put two of them together, and that was definitely going to spell disaster. 

But as Bucky got a bit more comfortable with the other Avengers, he started bumping into Banner more often around in the tower. Eventually, one day, it was the two of them together in the same room, with no one else around. 

“Hi,” Banner greeted. 

“Hi,” Bucky said back. 

There was a long silence, and then Banner spoke again. 

“So uhm, I want to ask you something.” 

Bucky nodded, mind already going through all the things Banner might ask from him. A blood sample? A scan of his brain?

“Are you sure you want to do this? To go back into the field? To fight?” 

Bucky blinked. That was the last thing he expected to be asked. 

“I just... You know you don’t _owe_ anything to us or anyone, right? If anything, it’s us that owe you the right to a peaceful life. After everything that’s happened to you, you deserve that, at the very least. You don’t have to make up for whatever you did when you weren’t even in control of yourself.”

 _But I still did it,_ Bucky didn’t say. 

He swallowed a few times, thinking of what to say in response to that. Words were still a little hard for him sometimes. 

Maybe a part of him was doing this out of guilt, but could he really help that? Could any of the Avengers truly say that they weren’t doing this because of guilt? He knew every single one of them had a dark past. They all did things they weren’t proud of, but they were all still here, fighting. 

Bucky was similar, in that sense. He didn’t really think his life mattered all too much (that was probably an unspoken requirement to be an Avenger), and wasting away at a remote farm somewhere in search of a peaceful life was something he couldn’t see himself doing. If he could use whatever was left of his life to help others, he wanted to, all the way to the very end. To go out like a firework, Stark liked to say. His past self would have probably wanted that too—well, his past self _did_ go out like a firework, though now it was just left with him. 

“I want to fight. And help people,” Bucky eventually said. He didn’t know if he could ever deserve to walk in the same ranks as the rest of the Avengers, but it didn’t matter. He still wanted to help others in any way he could. 

Banner considered him for a moment, before nodding. 

“Okay, if you’re sure. But if you change your mind at any time, any time at all, you’re free to do so. We won’t stop you.” 

And that was that. 

The next day, Stark told Bucky that Banner gave his approval and that he was now officially a new member of the Avengers.

\----------

The next time they met the unicorn was a week later, during a terrorist attack. 

Barton was still benched for the foreseeable future, but somehow managed to worm his way into the fight nonetheless, demanding live footage from Iron Man’s visors and providing running commentary on the whole situation. 

“Really, these guys are straight up amateurs! Look at— Oh my god, what the fuck was that punch?! Did he just—” Barton started cackling wildly through the comms. 

“He gets some points for effort, I guess. And flair. Hey, he’s even got that same mopey emo black leather look as you, Buck-duck!” Stark said as he easily stepped aside to dodge the terrorist’s kick, sending him face-planting to the floor with an oof. 

_Mopey emo black leather._ Bucky glared at Stark as he let loose a punch with much more vehemence than strictly necessary. The poor fellow at the receiving end of that got slammed into the wall, wincing in pain. 

Bucky was not _mopey_. Or _emo_. 

… Okay maybe a little mopey. 

But leather was a perfectly sensible fashion choice. Durable, strong, with underlying layers of kevlar to protect himself from pesky bullets. And black was stealthy and intimidating, again a perfectly sensible fashion choice. 

Bucky slammed another terrorist to the ground with a single strike, cleanly knocking him out. 

“Why did they even call the Avengers for this anyway? This is just plain embarrassing,” Barton whined. 

“Quit the chatter, guys. Let’s just get this over and done with,” Natasha sighed, ever always the serious one. 

“Oh come on, you can’t deny that this is all a little hilarious and—woah, _what the_ —”

Bucky jerked over to see the unicorn with its fuck-it-all pearly horn suddenly pop into existence in the middle of all the chaos. 

Everyone on the scene froze, mirroring the same ‘what-the-fuck’ expression. Then the terrorist leader (marked by his horrible mohawk haircut) let out a battle cry, lunging straight for the unicorn with a gun raised, because of course the most logical plan was to go after a fully-grown massive horse and—

 _SMACK!_

The leader was flung out of the room with a single kick, smashing through the window. 

There was a stunned silence, and—

Stark promptly burst into laughter, armoured hand clutched to his stomach. 

“What the—what the fuck—HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” 

The rest of the terrorists surrendered shortly after that, all handcuffed and gathered in a corner, waiting for the authorities to take them away. The leader was also brought back to the mix, face now newly decorated with a giant red hoof mark on the centre of his head. Well, in all honesty, Bucky thought his face looked much improved like this, anyway.

Stark, of course, already had an endless string of horse puns all prepped and ready just for the terrorist leader, who now looked just about ready to get a gun and shoot himself in the face. 

Then from the corner of Bucky’s eye, he saw Natasha carefully take a step towards the unicorn, who was still planted in a corner giving a decidedly _smug_ look to the terrorist leader. The unicorn immediately looked up when Natasha drew closer. Not scared, just attentive, with maybe a smidgen of caution. 

Weeks ago, the unicorn would have instantly vanished if anyone tried to go near it, nowhere to be seen until the next battle came along and it got curious enough about the proceedings to linger once again. Now though, it seemed more comfortable around the Avengers, sticking around longer and longer each time before it disappeared off to rainbow happy land. 

“Hey boy,” Natasha said, voice dropping to a soft, calming tone. 

The unicorn cocked its head to the side, ears turning forward. 

“Nice kick,” she said with a smile. “And I didn’t get to properly thank you for saving Clint the other day, he’s a bit of an idiot.” 

“I’m not an idiot!” Barton retorted petulantly through the comms. 

The unicorn gave no sign of actually understanding anything Natasha said, just blinked once. Its eyes looked impossibly blue from this angle, pure azure. _Pretty._

“Anyway, I brought a present for you as thanks. Don’t know if your diet is similar to a horse, but here.” She pulled out an apple from god knows where in her skintight uniform and offered it out to the unicorn, keeping her motions slow. 

The unicorn trotted forward, gold mane fluttering slightly in the wind. It paused a few steps away from Natasha, taking the time to thoroughly examine the apple from all angles and to sniff it. Natasha just waited patiently, until the unicorn gave a snort and lapped up the apple, crunching on it happily. 

“You’re sweet,” Natasha cooed, stroking its snout, making Bucky wonder if the unicorn was as smooth as it looked, with its coat of pristine glittering white. He wasn’t going to test his luck though, because chances were it’d immediately give him a matching hoof mark on the face if he dared go close. Perks of being a trash human being with seventy years of murder in his pocket, right?

The unicorn snorted and breathed out into Natasha, making her crack another smile. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Then the unicorn stepped away, snorting once more in farewell and vanishing as usual.

Stark was surprisingly stunned to silence at the sight, eyes wide in amazement. A blink, and he quickly regained his composure, putting on his usual suave expression as he stepped forward to Natasha.

“So…” He put both arms on his hips, giving his best impression of the disappointed parent. “You earning brownie points behind my back now, Romanoff? I expected better from you.” 

“Shut up, Stark.” Natasha whacked him on the head—affectionately of course, not in the usual concussion-inducing fashion. 

“Okay, I deserved that,” Stark mumbled and turned his attention back to the terrorist leader. “And so where were we?” He made a show of thinking hard. “Oh that's right, we were talking about how you need to stop _foal-ing_ around with bombs and guns, you know, _rein_ it in a bit and not _stirrup_ any more trouble, or–” 

And the terrorist leader with a bright red hoof mark on his face finally had more than enough, jerking up and snapping, “Just _stop!_ For fuck’s sake, stop with the fucking puns!! _”_

There was a pause. Then,

“Do I _hoof_ to?” 

The expression the terrorist leader made right after was definitely going to make Bucky reconsider using puns as an interrogation technique in the future. 

\----------

At the next battle, Stark had a whole basket of expensive fruit goodies ready for the unicorn’s perusal. 

Bucky didn’t think he imagined the glint of amusement in the unicorn’s eyes as it accepted the gift, thanking Stark with a snort-full of hot air blown onto his face. 

Stark wouldn’t stop bragging about it for weeks. 

\----------

Then, the next battle, it was Thor’s turn to present a gift. 

He brought an impossibly round golden apple, supposedly grown in the orchards of Asgard. The unicorn ate it happily in a single bite and similarly thanked him with a blow of hot air to his face. 

Thor looked like he was going to start crying rainbows at that.

\----------

Banner barely had any interaction with the unicorn as himself, usually only as Hulk (who seemed happy enough to be in the company of 'Tiny Horse'), but on the rare occasion he did, it was usually in the aftermath of a Hulk-transformation, when he was still slightly disoriented and on edge. 

The unicorn picked up on his distress almost immediately, coming over to nuzzle him softly after battles, pressing its face to Banner’s until his hands stopped trembling and his breathing evened out. 

Banner was always grateful for that, and brought his own fair share of apples to thank the unicorn. 

\----------

Next was Barton, when he was finally cleared for duty again. 

He brought peppermint treats for the unicorn, who happily accepted them and a few pets and praises along with it. 

\----------

Soon enough, it became a full-blown competition, to see which person the unicorn would choose to accept treats and pets from, to ultimately earn bragging rights till the next battle when the competition restarted again. 

Bucky never once bothered to participate. 

He knew fully well what the outcome would be. 

(And if his fingers itched to know what it was like to touch that silky mane, or to have the gentle beast nuzzle him affectionately like it did with the others, that was no one’s business but his.)

\----------

And then one fine afternoon in the tower, this happened: 

Bucky was rudely awakened from his nap by a loud ruckus from upstairs. He bolted awake instantly, glaring up at the ceiling and growling once. 

God, did Stark blow up something again? 

It had better not be the coffee maker, or Bucky was going to have a nice long conversation with him, preferably with his extensive collection of sharp and dangerous things arranged beside them to help things go along. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. 

When the noise didn’t settle after another five minutes, Bucky narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, kicking off his blankets and storming upstairs to investigate. 

“What is going on here?” he demanded, bursting into the common lounge area. 

The first person to turn to look at him was Stark, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk with crumbs all over his lips. He mumbled something like “guff oppo pe”, mouth still stuffed full. Seriously, _what?_ Bucky didn't speak chipmunk. He looked at the rest of the Avengers for an explanation, all similarly having traces of crumbs on them, on their lips, fingers, clothes. 

And that was the moment he realised there was a stranger in the room with them, not one of the Avengers. Bucky tensed, immediately zooming in on him. 

But he was the furthest thing from a threat, being small and at least a head shorter than even Stark. Bucky had no idea fully grown humans came packaged in sizes like that, all compact and tiny like a pocket doll. Then he noticed the tufts of blond hair nestled on top of the stranger’s head, accompanied by a pair of large, blinking, bright blue eyes. Yeah, definitely some kind of doll, that was the most reasonable explanation. 

“Uhm,” the doll— _stranger_ —said, chewing on his lip nervously. “Apple pie?” He offered out a small box with both hands.

“No thanks,” Bucky replied immediately out of instinct, and was totally unprepared for the way the stranger’s face fell, looking so ridiculously crestfallen and fuck—he didn’t just add ‘murdering puppies’ to his list of crimes against humanity, did he?

“He just ate. He’ll have it later,” Natasha thankfully stepped in with a quick save, and said blond puppy immediately revived back to life, smiling brightly and wagging his metaphorical tail. He offered out the box with the apple pie slice again, eyes so hopelessly earnest. 

“Thanks,” Bucky mumbled as he accepted the box.

“Hope you like it!” the stranger said and beamed. 

“Right.”

“Uhm, well anyway, it’s nice to officially meet you guys. I should probably head back now, but all of you are more than welcome to pop by for more desserts anytime!” The stranger’s smile turned shy, and he sort of… _bounced_ his way to the elevator, immediately changing his status from ‘tiny doll’ to ‘tiny puppy’ in Bucky’s mind. 

Bucky watched him go, then turned to the rest of the Avengers. 

“Oh man, that was some good pie,” Barton moaned, flopping on the couch and patting his stomach. 

“It is certainly a delectable delicacy,” Thor agreed, trying to brush out the crumbs from his beard and missing about eighty percent of it.

“What happened?” Bucky asked. 

“Oh, that’s Steve. Steven? Stephen? Stephan? Maybe St—”

“What Tony _means_ to say is that Steve opened a new cafe down the street and was kind enough to come over to bring samples to celebrate the opening,” Natasha explained simply.

Oh. 

Bucky peered at his box of apple pie, with a logo saying ‘Royal Gala Cafe’ on the cover and a cute doodle of a smiley face just beside. 

“Hey, you know... If you don’t want your slice, I’m right here,” Barton said, practically salivating as he eyed Bucky’s apple pie slice like the damn vulture he was, vulturing food wherever he went. 

“No,” Bucky said, fingers curling protectively around the box. _His_ apple pie. 

“Aw, no.” 

\----------

Later, in the privacy of his own room, Bucky finally cracked open the box, taking a small nibble off the corner of the apple pie slice and—

Wow. _Wow._

This was the best fucking apple pie he had ever eaten in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Products from Royal Gala Cafe quickly became the Avengers’ newest obsession, the go-to place to get good drinks and desserts. 

They would constantly gush about the amazing desserts (and also gush about the supposedly adorable cafe owner Steve—who was unanimously described as a human golden retriever puppy).

Stark loved getting his caffeine fix from there, Banner loved the tea, Natasha enjoyed the cookies, and Thor and Barton would basically eat anything from there as long as it was edible. Even Pepper—who wasn’t even one of the Avengers—got into the fad, often dropping by the cafe and getting an assortment of breads and cakes. 

There was one exception to all this, and that was Bucky himself, who hadn’t quite found the time—or really, mustered the courage—to actually step outside the Avengers tower and do something that was not either sleeping, eating, or destroying punching bags in the gym. 

Until one day, Stark suddenly came knocking on his door. 

“Hey, hey! Buckoo! I need your help.” 

The knocking continued insistently, and Bucky sighed out loud once before opening the door. 

“What?” he asked irritably. 

Stark blinked at him for a bit. 

“Huh, didn’t expect you to actually open—”

“What do you want?” 

“Oh. Yeah. So, the situation is this: I ordered some stuff from Steve-o—you know, human golden retriever Steve-o—but something cropped up at SI. Something about a malfunctioning generator or whatever. Can you go pick it up?” 

“What about the others?” 

“The spider and bird are out with Pep. Bruce is meditating and has specifically told me not to disturb him again or we’ll be getting a visitor from the green-eyed monster. And Thor is… well, _Thor._ He’ll probably accidentally crush or sit on the pie or something. Plus, Happy is still on leave. Somewhere in Hawaii, last I checked, probably drinking pina coladas and forgetting all about his boss.” 

Bucky frowned. 

“Come on, Buckoo. It’s supposed to be Pep’s birthday today. I even remembered it all by myself and everything. No alarms or reminders! Do you know how rare that is? You don’t want to be responsible for ruining this, right?!”

That made Bucky hesitate for a bit, because Stark could be the human equivalent of a flying mosquito, but Pepper? She was nothing but an angel to Bucky, despite him being ex-Hydra and all. 

“Look, I’ll upgrade your arm to have anything you like, okay? Candy dispenser, flamethrower, sonic blaster, anything you want. Or you can take an extra slice of apple pie, how about that? That’s a good deal, right?” 

God knows why and how Pepper could stand dealing with Stark, much less be in a committed relationship with him, but if this was going to make Pepper happy…

Bucky sighed soundlessly and nodded. “Fine.” 

“Really? Great!” Stark said. “No take-backsies! I’ll get JARVIS to send you the address. See you later, Buckoo!” 

\----------

It was a mistake. 

Curse his stupid empathy. He should have just told Stark to get one of his minions or some random intern to do this. 

What was supposed to be an easy fifteen minute walk to the cafe turned out to be an arduous, stressful journey, with Bucky’s jaw clenched tight throughout the entire walk until his teeth started to ache. 

He was starting to remember every reason why he hated going out. 

The noise. The people. The constant need to be vigilant because anyone and everyone could be a potential threat. 

A tall man walked past Bucky at that very moment, and he instinctively tensed up, doing the usual threat assessment.

Middle-aged. Thick wool coat. Hands tucked into the pockets. Threat level: low. 

Bucky forced himself to look away, but didn’t completely relax. 

Logically, he knew that the majority of people out there weren’t out to get him or kill him—though even if they were, Bucky was confident he could take them down himself. And yet, he just couldn’t stop his brain from going into overdrive and analysing every tiny detail and sound. 

Plotting escape routes. Mapping cameras. Analysing threats. Possible blind spots. The Winter Soldier in him simply wouldn’t just give it a rest. 

Another person walked past him, this time a young teenage girl, and Bucky immediately tensed up again. 

Blond hair. Floral perfume. Glued to her phone. High heels. The likelihood of being Hydra: low. 

Bucky forced himself to walk on, jaw still clenched tight. 

He took a quick glance at his phone, opening up the map app. 

Still another five minutes, though with how slow Bucky was currently walking, it was probably going to take way longer than that. 

Bucky put his phone away, sighing soundlessly and trudging on. He was regretting this stupid decision already. 

He really should have just said no. 

\----------

Eventually, Bucky finally arrived at his destination. 

As it turned out, Royal Gala Cafe was a sweet, quaint place, just a tiny shophouse tucked away in a corner, decorated with plastic green leafy vines and pink flowers scattered about. 

Bucky took a deep breath before pushing the door open. 

He was immediately greeted by a waft of freshly baked goods, with a sweet, fruity scent overlying it. The cafe itself was empty, with a pleasant vibe to match its floral exterior. The walls had a soothing pastel gradient of pink fading to yellow, and Bucky caught a glimpse of a half-painted mural at the back, depicting a huge tree spiraling up the wall towards the ceiling, with adorable apple-shaped lights hanging down. Whoever painted that was probably receiving constant pestering from Stark for art commissions (granted, they'd be paid handsomely, _very_ handsomely). 

“Oh hello!” 

Bucky looked up to see the owner, _Steve_ , popping his head out from under the main counter, blond hair bouncing on top of his head. 

Bucky’s mind automatically ran through the usual threat analysis, quickly confirming that cafe owner Steve was merely a tiny puppy scoring negative points on the danger scale, perhaps even bordering on _cute_ , which was definitely not a scale that Bucky was ready to unravel right now.

“Hi,” Bucky tentatively greeted. 

Steve’s eyes widened slightly in recognition upon seeing him, before breaking into a bright smile.

“Oh hi!! It’s James, right?” 

“Bucky,” he immediately corrected. 

“Uh, what?” 

“It’s Bucky, not James.” 

Steve looked hopelessly confused at that, and Bucky could almost imagine the metaphorical question marks floating above his head.

“What do you mean Buck— _Oh!_ Your _name_. Oh, of course your name! That’s... yeah. Sorry, Bucky. I’m Steve, but you probably already know that,” Steve said, cheeks turning a faint red.

“Right,” Bucky said.

“Anyway, it's good to finally see you again! I hope you’ve been doing well. Uhm, do you want anything? A drink? Food?" 

Steve gestured at the drink menu and the display case of desserts. 

The display case was massive and filled to the brim with rows of beautifully glazed desserts, all with a common theme: _apples_. 

Tarte tatin, honey apple bundt cake, caramel apple profiteroles, apple mousse, caramel apple trifle, the list went on. 

Bucky must have made some sort of expression, because Steve blushed.

“Uh yeah, apples are my favourite fruit.” 

“Right." 

“So, what would you like?”

Bucky looked up from the display case.

“Actually, I’m just here to pick up Stark’s order.” 

“Star— Oh! Tony’s order! Right! For Pepper’s birthday,” Steve said, though Bucky didn’t miss the way his shoulders fell somewhat before returning to normal. “Uhm, actually, about the order—” Steve started twiddling his thumbs like a child. “I’m sorry, I have most of it done and ready, but I was having some problems with the oven earlier today, so the apple pie’s probably going to take another... fifteen minutes? I tried to tell Tony about the delay earlier but he kinda hung up before I could say anything.” 

Steve looked so damn apologetic and miserable that if Bucky didn’t forgive him right there and then, it would was probably be a worse crime than seventy years of murder combined. 

“It’s fine.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again, blinking his big blue eyes that looked way too much like puppy-dog eyes for Bucky’s liking. 

“It’s alright. I can wait.” It wasn’t as if Bucky had anything else to do. 

“Uhm, I’m really sorry about this,” Steve said miserably, before perking up a bit. “But I can bring out something from the display if you like? And a drink? On the house.” 

Steve looked up at him, and Bucky received the full brunt of those puppy-dog eyes. 

_Well, fuck._ He was definitely a human golden retriever alright. 

Any lingering shred of resistance was immediately thrown out of the window and cast into oblivion, and Bucky had no other choice but to dumbly nod and agree. 

There was just no way he could tell this dumb blond ‘no’ lest he suffered severe consequences—consequences being getting sent to the bottomost level of hell to suffer for eternity on account of kicking an innocent puppy (if he wasn’t reserved a spot there already). 

Steve immediately brightened up. 

“What would you like?” 

“Uhm…” Bucky gave the drink menu and the giant glass case of desserts another look. Too many choices. “You choose.” 

“Huh, sure. Do you like sweet things?” 

Bucky simply shrugged, and Steve just smiled, giving the display case a quick scan. 

“What about caramel apple profiteroles? That should pair well with some fruit tea.” 

Bucky nodded. 

“Okay! Just go take a seat while I get everything ready.” 

Steve started brewing the tea, arranging four mini profiteroles in a tiny mountain and bringing everything out to Bucky’s table. 

“Hope you like them!” 

Bucky examined the profiteroles, tiny cream puff pastries with some type of filling inside and with a drizzle of caramel sauce at the top. 

He picked up a profiterole and popped the whole thing into his mouth, biting down. 

It was an explosion of flavour in his mouth. The cream puff pastry was soft and airy, slightly salty, and coupled with the silky, creamy apple filling inside, it was just simply _perfect._

“Good?” 

Bucky nodded and eagerly popped another profiterole into his mouth. _Fuck,_ this was literally the best thing Bucky had ever tasted. 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

Steve beamed, looking as happy as a human golden retriever dog could possibly look. 

Bucky quickly demolished the mountain of profiteroles, taking a sip of the fruit tea. 

Unlike the profiteroles, the tea’s flavour was mild with a hint of honey in it, though it was still absolutely delicious. 

“This particular brew’s not actually on the menu,” Steve told him. “But Bruce likes it. It’s non-caffeinated, and he says it’s calming, so I thought you might like it too.” 

Bucky blinked, and took another sip. 

It definitely tasted very different from other teas he’d tried. The fruit flavour in this one was subtle, but it was certainly very soothing to the throat. 

“It’s nice.” 

Steve smiled. “Anyway, I should probably go check on that pie. It should be more or less done by now. I’ll be back.” 

Steve disappeared into the kitchen, and Bucky continued drinking the tea, looking around the cafe.

Soft colours everywhere, and even with the half-finished mural at the back, the whole cafe still had such a sweet, calming vibe to it, making Bucky feel like he could possibly spend the whole day here, maybe even nap here, which was quite unusual in itself given that the Winter Soldier in him was usually extremely suspicious of unfamiliar places. 

Bucky continued drinking the tea, and a few minutes later, Steve reappeared from the kitchen, clearly struggling with a huge bag in his tiny hands that looked like it was going to collapse over and crush him at any moment now.

"Uhm, Bucky?" 

Bucky immediately got up to take the bag from him, easily lifting it across the counter with a single hand. 

"Sorry, didn't expect it to be this huge," Steve said. "Uhm, I've labelled the boxes that need to be refrigerated, so be sure to put them in the fridge before they spoil." 

Bucky nodded. 

"Thanks for the food. And tea."

Steve blushed a little. 

"Oh, it's honestly the least I can do. I'm really sorry about the delay again," Steve said, before smiling and waving at Bucky. "Anyway, thanks for coming, Bucky. Wish Pepper a happy birthday for me!” 

\----------

It wasn't until he arrived back at the communal lounge of the tower to unpack the goods that he realised there was an extra paper bag at the very top.

 _'Hope to see you again soon, Bucky!'_ was written in blue marker at the top, with a cute smiley face beside. 

"Hey, what's that?" Stark asked. 

Bucky immediately snatched up the bag, hiding the message from view.

"Nothing," he said hastily. 

Thankfully, Stark was too distracted by all the desserts to really take notice, easily dropping the topic. 

When Bucky retreated back to his room to finally inspect the contents of the mysterious paper bag, he found a perfectly round cookie inside, smelling of an intoxicating mix of cinnamon and apple. 

A warm feeling pulsed up his spine.

Maybe going to the cafe wasn’t so bad after all. 

\----------

The unicorn continued to make its appearance at every Avengers battle, sometimes on the sidelines and sometimes in the fray of the battle, practicing its kicks against whichever brainless fool was stupid enough to go after an animal twice the size of an ordinary human being. Being branded with a giant hoof mark on the face was practically a running joke at this point—the unicorn’s signature calling card. 

The Avengers also continued to delight in seeing their fancy animal mascot at every battle, doubling up efforts to earn the coveted BFF title using an endless supply of treats, pets, and more recently, toys, squeaky and non-squeaky, in all sizes imaginable.

One glaring exception to that rule was, of course, Bucky, and the other Avengers were quick to notice his aversion to their newest four-legged friend. It was probably hard _not_ to notice really, considering how there was a huge invisible boundary between Bucky and the horse at all times. 

“Not gonna pet the nice horsey?” Barton asked lightly once after their latest battle, a hand meticulously stroking down the unicorn’s snout. “I can give you a treat to feed him.” 

Bucky immediately stiffened, momentarily tightening his grip on his trusty gun.

“No,” he said curtly, "I hate... horses." 

And was it Bucky’s imagination, or did the unicorn’s ears suddenly go flat, almost to the point where he would consider them as _droopy?_

Well, that was a ridiculous thought, the unicorn was an animal, an animal with no comprehension of human language. 

Bucky forced himself to look away and take a few steps back for good measure. There was just no way in hell he was ever going near the creature, let alone _touch_ it. His touch was probably toxic to the animal anyway, as was his breath, and general existence.

That was the moment Natasha popped up beside him like the sneaky little redhead spider she had always been. 

"I know what’s going on in your head, I’ve been there,” she said quietly, in a rare show of honesty. “But you're making this a lot more complicated than it has to be.” 

Complicated? Bucky wanted to scoff. Tell that to the permanent indent in his skull from where Hydra placed those fancy electrodes and blasted away all his memories to turn him into a mindless puppet. Tell that to the hundreds of people he killed indiscriminately, no matter how much they begged him not to. Tell that to his blackened soul, rotten to the very core, that he was not the ultimate trash of the universe. 

How was it not _complicated?_ How was someone like him supposed to even go near this entity of pure good? How could he?

But Bucky didn't say any of that out loud. 

He didn't need to. 

What he said instead was, "I hate horses. That's all." 

It was a lame excuse and both of them knew it, but if it was the one way to end the conversation, then so be it. 

\----------

Two weeks eventually passed after Bucky’s first visit to Steve’s cafe.

Two weeks, and on a bright Wednesday morning after waking up to stare at Steve’s handwritten message on the stupid greasy paper bag that Bucky had somehow yet to throw away after _two whole weeks_ , he sighed, and started raiding his wardrobe for something casual to wear. 

He was going to regret this. He just knew it. 

\----------

True enough, it took merely one step outside the tower before Bucky immediately regretted every decision he’d ever made. 

His Winter Soldier instincts were instantly switched to overdrive, thoroughly scanning the area for threats, potential weapons, ambushes—the full package. 

A group of teenagers ran across the street at that very moment and Bucky felt his fingers clench up into fists.

Not a threat, he firmly told himself and forcibly relaxed his hands. 

Bucky sighed. 

This was going to be another long walk. 

It took a full half an hour before Bucky finally arrived outside Royal Gala Cafe. 

As far as he could tell, the cafe was empty, and he took a quick moment to compose himself before opening the doors and stepping in. 

Immediately, he was greeted by a waft of delicious baked goods, overlaid by that soft, fruity scent. 

Steve popped up from the counter at the sound of the door opening, eyes widening when he saw Bucky and then immediately beaming up at him. 

“Hi, Bucky! You’re back!” 

“Hi.” 

Steve tilted his head to the side, and Bucky suddenly noticed the thin layer of flour covering the man’s signature golden hair, looking like freshly fallen snow. 

“How have you been? Do you want something to eat today? Or drink?” 

Bucky tore his eyes off Steve’s flour-powdered hair and looked at the display case of desserts, which was again filled to the brim with an assortment of apple-inspired desserts. Then he looked at the drink menu - yet another large selection of drinks that all kind of sounded the same to him. Iced Apple Cinnamon Latte? Macchiato? Ice Blended? Tea latte? _What?_

Steve took pity on him and flashed another bright smile, saying, “Well, the donuts are my personal favourite. And if you don’t mind caffeine, the latte goes especially well with it. Do you want it hot or iced?” 

“Hot,” Bucky said immediately. He had enough of ice for a lifetime— _multiple_ lifetimes. 

Bucky made his payment, and Steve turned around to start preparing the drink. Steve moved in practiced motions, adding some spices into the cup and steaming up the milk, but all Bucky could really focus on was the flour covering Steve’s hair, arranged in a somewhat ridiculous fashion and bouncing along as he moved. 

Entirely oblivious to the flour party happening on top of his head, Steve continued making the drink, humming a tune to himself while he poured the milk and added the final touch of a light dusting of cinnamon. 

Bucky made himself look away, taking a brief glance around the cafe instead. 

It definitely looked a little different compared to the last time he’d been here, with new potted plants sitting at each table and a few more hanging lights draped across the walls to further add to the warm and cozy atmosphere of the cafe. 

The biggest change, however, was the giant mural at the back of the cafe. Two weeks ago, it had just been a half-painted tree extending all the way up to the ceiling, but today, it was boasting fully coloured branches and immaculately shaded leaves, with metallic gold streaks outlining certain parts of the tree to give it a more alluring look. 

Steve noticed him staring, and blushed a little as he brought a tray with the donut and latte to Bucky’s table. 

"Oh yeah, I finished it the other day." 

Bucky blinked. 

"You painted that?" 

Steve nodded shyly. "Do you like it?" 

"It's beautiful," Bucky said, and he meant it. 

Steve turned redder. 

“Thank you, that means a lot. Anyway, hope you enjoy!” 

“Thanks.” 

Steve made his way back to the counter, and Bucky spent a few seconds admiring the donut, before picking it up and taking a bite. It was— 

Wow. Just _wow._

Generous chunks of fresh apples, tart but still retaining some sweetness, with the fluffy texture of the donut, and then adding on the silky custard cream, it was just— 

_Perfect._

Before he was even aware of it, the donut was gone, not a single crumb or speck of icing left in sight. Bucky frowned, and then heard a soft giggle from the counter. 

“Sorry, it’s just— Uhm... you have some cream on your cheek,” Steve said with a cheery smile. Radiant, _puppy-dog-like_. 

Bucky blinked, wiping his cheek to get rid of the offending dollop of cream. Then he looked up, and with a sudden surge of bravado, he returned flatly, “Well, you have flour in your hair.” 

Almost instantly, Steve’s cheeky smile was wiped away. He flushed red. 

“Wait, what? Really?!” Both hands flew up to his head, patting down frantically on the nest of blond. _Fluffy,_ Bucky thought absentmindedly. When Steve’s hands came away covered in white powder, he turned even redder. “You mean I had this the whole time? Why didn’t you say anything? Oh my god, did I just spend the whole morning with flour on my head?? Wha—” 

Bucky watched Steve start to completely freak out over having flour on his hair like it was the end of the world, even though Steve was a god damn _baker,_ and Bucky felt his own lips start to curl up, a warm tingling sensation going up his spine. 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! Oh my god!” Steve attempted to brush the flour out from his hair, but only succeeded in spreading it around even more, some even landing on his face. Steve let out a displeased noise, sounding exactly like a puppy playing tug-of-war with a rope toy. 

Bucky bit down on his lip. 

“I— I’m gonna go clean this off. I’ll be right back!” Steve declared and made a quick getaway into the kitchen, presumably to go wash off the flour and restore the rest of his dignity. 

Bucky bit down even harder on his lip.

A minute later, Steve finally returned, cheeks still red and with his hair slightly wet but otherwise flour-free. 

“There’s no more flour right?” Steve checked apprehensively.

Bucky stared at Steve’s hair—the word _fluffy_ coming to mind yet again—and shook his head. 

“Okay, good.” Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “Have you tried the latte yet? Is it good?” 

Bucky nodded, taking small sips from the latte. 

He could definitely understand why Stark practically worshipped the coffee here. It was genuinely _very_ good, bitter but not _too_ bitter, with faint acidity to add to the depth of flavour.

Bucky continued drinking the latte, and when he was done and getting ready to leave, Steve suddenly stopped him at the door and hastily handed over a small paper bag. 

“Here. Just a small gift,” he said. “Hope to see you again soon!” 

Before Bucky could say anything, Steve scurried back inside, turning around briefly to give Bucky a final grin and a wave goodbye. 

Huh. 

\----------

When Bucky was back at the tower, he opened the bag to find another perfectly round cookie inside, smelling of cinnamon and apple, and a handwritten note.

_Thanks for dropping by again, Bucky!_

Just beneath that, there was an adorable cartoon drawing of Bucky smiling and holding a donut, with a tiny speck on his face with an arrow beside it, clearly labelling the speck as ‘cream’. 

That warm feeling from before returned again, rushing up his spine and permeating every cell in his body. 

_Nope._

Absolutely not.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't public knowledge, but at any given night in the Avengers Tower, someone was bound to be having some sort of nightmare or panic attack. 

Tonight was Bucky’s turn. 

The dreams came in the usual garden variety—blood and ice, the people he’s killed, his previous handlers—but despite how many times he’s gone through this being fully aware that they were all just dreams, he still jolted awake every time shaking and drenched in sweat, feeling as if his heart had been ripped out of his body and trapped in a tight vice, slowly being squeezed dry. 

Most of the time, JARVIS’s Lullaby Protocol (invented by Stark) was enough to calm him down, and if not, he could easily head up to the common lounge where Barton or one of the other Avengers was likely to be present, watching late-night TV and raiding the snack pile after being rudely awakened by their own personal nighttime demons. 

Tonight though, seemed to be one of _those_ nights, the nights where his heart wouldn’t settle no matter what he did and the walls felt like they were closing in on him, like he was getting shoved into the cryogenic chamber to be put back to sleep. 

Those nights, Bucky just needed to _get out_. It didn’t matter where, as long as there weren’t four walls and a ceiling anywhere in sight threatening to box him in. 

That was how he found himself wandering the streets aimlessly at five in the morning, dressed in an old hoodie (possibly worn inside-out, though Bucky had no energy in him to care), and with his hair left in such an unruly mess that the local birdlife were probably in the skies above competing for this prospective nesting ground. Wouldn’t be the first time.

The streets were completely empty, devoid of the usual obnoxious crowds and cars zipping about, and the air was just cold enough to leave a pleasant chill over his skin. It was exactly everything Bucky needed right now, some peace and quiet to combat the never-ending war in his soul.

He didn’t know how long he spent walking down the streets, but when he was finally aware of himself doing so, he somehow found himself standing in front of the brightest place in the vicinity—Royal Gala Cafe. 

Everywhere else was enveloped in darkness apart from the few street lamps scattered around providing some light, but this one place was lit up like a goddamn beacon, clanging sounds coming from within. Alive. Bright. Like it was calling him.

Bucky started to frown, but before he could do anything, the main door to the cafe suddenly creaked open, and a tiny figure peered out, none other than Steve himself. 

“Hello?” 

It was too late to hide, and Bucky stood there stupidly, not moving an inch.

Bucky didn’t know what he must have looked like to Steve (he wasn’t even sure if the man recognised him like this), but he would hazard a guess and say probably something between a homeless man and a crazed serial killer. Either way, it was someone Steve should definitely avoid and possibly run from. 

Steve... did the very opposite. 

The tiny man pattered up to him and carefully tugged on his sleeve without saying a single word, gently pulling him nearer to the light and warmth—the very place Bucky couldn't bring himself to be in right now. His place was back in the cold, hidden away in a dark place where he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. 

When Bucky didn’t budge, the tugging became more insistent, until Bucky finally relented, allowing this tiny human at least a few heads shorter than him to practically drag him into the cafe and usher him to one of the seats. 

A mug of steaming hot chocolate was pushed under his nose, and a plate with a generous slice of apple pound cake followed soon after, most definitely fresh from the oven. 

Steve still didn’t say a word, but nudged the cup and plate closer to Bucky until he finally took a sip and a bite. 

“How is it?” Steve asked. 

Bucky didn’t trust himself to speak, but nodded. Steve beamed in response, and let out a breath. 

“Thank goodness. It’s a new recipe, I didn’t know if it would turn out well.” 

Bucky still didn’t say anything, taking another nibble from the cake. 

“It’s always so much easier to bake in the mornings. Weather’s perfect for it,” Steve said. “When it gets warmer, pastry gets so hard to work with. Rolling it out becomes such a pain, and—” 

Bucky listened to Steve drone on about the fascinating intricacies of baking until he swallowed the last bite, finally having enough confidence to look up at Steve. 

The man flashed him a small, shy smile— _puppy-dog like_ , Bucky’s mind supplied very unhelpfully.

“Thank you,” Bucky forced out, voice a lot raspier than he would have liked, and then he paused. “I didn’t bring any money.” 

Steve blinked and immediately shook his head a few times. 

“Oh, it’s alright! I was just trying a new recipe. I wasn’t going to put it up for sale anyway. Do you want more cake?” 

“Uhm…It’s al—” Bucky began, but a brand new slice of cake was quickly deposited on his plate nonetheless. “—thanks.” 

Steve flashed his trademark puppy smile once again. “I’ll pack up the rest of the cake for you to bring back to the other Avengers. I hope they’ll like it!” 

Again, Bucky was about to politely decline, but Steve was already packing everything up into a nice takeout box, and Bucky clammed his mouth shut. 

He was quickly starting to figure out that trying to argue with Steve was like trying to get a toddler _not_ to steal a cookie from the cookie jar—a ludicrous, useless waste of effort. 

Not to mention that Steve was also armed to the teeth with that ridiculous cheery smile of his, a pair of bright sparkling blue eyes, and to top it all off, tufts of blond hair that were more fluffy-cloud-like than actual _hair-_ like. Bucky was no idiot, and he knew fully well that no weapon in his arsenal, not his legendary Winter Soldier glare or even the lovely rocket launcher gifted to him by Stark, could remotely match up with the kind of firepower Steve was bringing to the table. 

Steve somehow got Bucky to stay for a second mug of hot chocolate, and by the time Bucky finished that, the sun was starting to rise, grim images from the night before long faded away. 

“I should go,” Bucky finally declared, drinking the last bit of hot chocolate and setting the empty mug down. “Thank you.” 

Steve nodded and handed over the carefully wrapped up leftover cake to him. 

“Hope to see you again, Bucky!” Steve smiled and waved goodbye. "You're welcome to drop by anytime you want!" 

\----------

It was only when Bucky was back in the tower that he realised Steve never once questioned his disheveled appearance, or why he was out on the streets at five in the morning in the first place, but still invited him in and fed him hot chocolate and cake anyway. 

For some reason, even though by all rights Steve was still just a stranger to Bucky, all that just seemed like a very frustratingly _Steve_ thing to do. 

\----------

Things continued as normal. 

The Avengers had the usual fights, the unicorn had the usual treats and pets, and everyone continued to eat an obnoxious amount of sweets from Steve's cafe.

All was going well, until one fine morning when Stark walked into the common lounge and said the ultimate forbidden phrase in the Avengers household: 

"So, I have an _idea…_ "

Everyone jerked to stare at him, eyes going wide. 

" _Oh no_ ," Barton said automatically, exchanging a look of utter horror with Natasha. Even Banner looked resigned, and Thor was already picking his hammer up, staring suspiciously at Stark (the last time Stark got one of his fancy lightbulb _ideas_ , the biggest casualty was Thor's entire collection of pop-tarts).

"I haven't even said anything yet! Why do you guys always assume—" 

"Do I need to call the legal team? The repairs team?" Pepper Potts quipped in from the side, already pulling out her phone. 

"Again, rude. I haven't said anything yet!" 

"Well, the last time you had an _idea_ , you blew up the kitchen and Hulk-ified poor Brucie here."

"That was the one time. That doesn't count!" 

"Oh yeah? What about the time you melted the elevators? Or turned the pool into popsicle town?" 

"Okay, fine! _Three_ times. But who's counting?" 

Pretty much everyone raised their hands, even his number one supporter, Miss Pepper Potts. 

"Traitors, all of you!" Stark huffed. "And here I am being such a generous, amaz—" 

"What are you planning to do, Tony?" Pepper sighed. 

"A rooftop garden! That's all!!"

"No explosions involved?" Banner questioned suspiciously. 

"No. What kind of garden do you think I'm creating?!" 

"My pop-tarts will remain unharmed?" 

"Yes, your pop-tarts will be safe. Forget that I can practically buy out the whole company and get you an unlimited supply if I wanted to," Stark grumbled. 

"What's with the sudden interest in greenery?" Pepper asked. "Wait, don't tell me. This has to do with the unicorn you keep telling me about." 

A pause. 

"Guilty as charged?" 

Pepper shook her head and sighed out loud, fully aware that there was no point trying to convince Stark otherwise because he would do whatever he wanted, with or without consent.

"Just don't go crazy and make rocket trampolines or something." 

Another pause. 

"Not even one?" 

"No.” 

"Damn, you drive a hard bargain." 

\----------

And thus, the Avengers' new pet project was born. 

Stark and Pepper took charge of most of the designing, and Stark's bots were responsible for maintenance, watering and taking care of the plants. Banner contributed a whole box of adorable succulents, Natasha and Barton brought in a selection of shrubs and other miscellaneous plants, Thor was persuaded against bringing an Asgardian plant in view of biosecurity concerns, and Bucky contributed exactly one plum tree sapling, tucked away in its own private corner of the rooftop so as not to associate itself with that one hideous monstrosity that Natasha and Barton insisted was called a fern and not a weed.

Soon enough, the rooftop hangar was transformed from cold metal and sharp edges into a luscious green space, with a beautiful apple tree in the middle of it all. 

Stark set up cameras in hopes of catching sight of the unicorn, and one day in the lab when Bucky was due for his usual arm maintenance, JARVIS finally reported a positive sighting. 

"Sir, camera 3B has a positive visual on the unicorn." 

A holographic screen appeared and Stark let out a gleeful yip when he saw the unicorn trotting around the garden, sniffing the plants and looking positively happy amidst all the greenery.

Even through a screen, the unicorn still looked as sweet and inviting as always, mane all silky soft. 

Bucky immediately swallowed and looked away. _No._

“See? I knew making the rooftop garden was a good idea,” Stark exclaimed proudly. “Who can resist such a—”

"Sir, there is a sighting of an unidentified creature on camera 3C." 

"An unidentified what now?" 

Both of them looked up at the holographic screen and found themselves staring at a... _bird?_

Said bird was puffy and brown, about the size of a slightly large chicken, and it was currently attempting its best impression of a death glare into the camera with its abnormally large amber eyes, while the unicorn peeked over from the side with an almost resigned expression, tail swishing to the side. 

"Uh…" 

And the bird's eyes suddenly flashed yellow, brown speckled feathers bursting into actual flames as it lunged at the camera.

The camera footage was suddenly cut off, showing an error message, and Stark and Bucky looked at each other with equally incredulous expressions. 

"What the fuck?!" 

\----------

"That's a _phoenix,_ " Thor exclaimed after close review of the saved footage (and by close, Bucky meant _beard-touching close_ , because he supposed Asgardians had no concept of the ‘zoom in’ function whatsoever). "They're extremely rare creatures just like the unicorn." 

What? That flaming chicken was actually a mythical phoenix? Yeah, no, Bucky was not buying that. 

"First a unicorn and now a phoenix? Great, what's next? A dragon?" 

"Is it friends with horsey? Aw, horsey has a birdy buddy!" 

"It certainly didn't look pleased about the cameras," Natasha commented idly as she rewound the footage and watched the chicken puff up menacingly and transform into a murderous fireball. 

"Yeah, the cameras I set up were all disintegrated to ash. Absolutely no respect for private property, that one." 

"Well, you did try to spy on it." 

"That's cute, coming from you, _Rushman_."

Natasha sighed. "Never gonna let that go, are you?" 

"Nope. You stabbed me in the neck."

"To save your life," she countered. 

"Irrelevant details." 

Natasha sighed out loud a second time.

\----------

The next time Bucky went down to Royal Gala Cafe, it was a Tuesday afternoon. 

The journey to get to the cafe was as arduous as always, and during the entire walk, Bucky found himself half wishing some alien invader circling the atmosphere would spontaneously launch into the usual world domination act just so he could escape this horrible predicament (well, not really of course, especially not if said alien invaders were of the screechy bat species which remained the uncontested champion of the Avengers’ most hated adversaries up until today).

Exactly twenty seven minutes passed before Bucky finally arrived outside the cafe, and he made a conscious effort to relax every tensed up muscle in his body and compose himself before pushing open the door to the cafe.

“Oh, hi, Bucky!” Steve immediately greeted when he entered, strands of blond hair bouncing on top of his head as the tiny man popped up from under the counter as always. 

"Hi—"

"Wait, _Bucky?"_ a foreign voice suddenly exclaimed from the kitchen, and out jumped a stranger with a neatly trimmed beard and a short-cropped haircut. Bucky immediately snapped up, instinctively clenching his fists by his side. Who?

“Hi, I’m Sam, Steve’s business partner.” The man—Sam—grinned at him, and Bucky forced his fingers to relax. Not a threat. He’s _safe_. 

“Steve has told me a lot about you,” Sam continued, appraising him fully from head to toe, with his eyes lingering for a bit on Bucky's left arm (carefully gloved of course). “You’re— Hang on a minute, you’re the Winter Soldier, aren’t you?” 

Bucky nodded dumbly, though the only thought in his head was: _Steve had been talking about him?_

“Thank you for all the work you do,” Sam said sincerely. 

“Uhm... Thanks.”

"Cool, it’s nice to finally meet you," Sam said and exchanged a look with Steve (who blushed slightly and mumbled something under his breath). Then he promptly disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Bucky alone with Steve once more. 

“So, uhm... What do you want to try today?” 

Bucky gave the glass cabinet of desserts a quick glance. 

Today’s offerings included the famous apple pie, apple chiffon cake, apple panna cotta and other apple-related desserts. Too many damn choices. 

“Uhm, if you want something different, I actually have some apple brioche fresh from the oven right now. But it’s a new recipe, so I’m not really sure how it tastes,” Steve piped up with a shy smile. 

“I’ll have that, then,” Bucky said, pulling out his wallet. 

“Oh no, that’s alright, you don’t have to pay. It’s a new recipe and you’re basically the guinea pig taste tester. If anything, I should be paying you." Steve quickly waved both hands in protest, blushing a little. 

Oh, _hell_ no. 

Bucky looked at him and pointedly pulled out a twenty, slapping it down on the counter. 

This black market business of so-called 'free snacks' had to end. 

If Bucky was going to get coerced into eating extra cookies that Steve somehow always found a way to give him, then Steve was absolutely going to get coerced into taking his money. That was how the deal worked (though if it didn’t, Bucky had absolutely no qualms about breaking into the cafe after closing hours and pulling a reverse robbery to vehemently stuff Steve’s register full of cash). 

Bucky still had his pride, and Steve's charity was almost downright ridiculous by now. How was a bakery going to stay open if its owner had an incurable tendency to hand out free snacks all the time?

“You really don’t have to,” Steve reiterated, stubbornly trying to push the money away. 

Two could play that game. 

Bucky put back the twenty and pulled out a fifty instead, laying it out on the counter. 

“Uhm…” 

“God, Steve, you’re a disaster,” Sam suddenly snorted, making an appearance at the doorway again. “Just take the poor man’s money.” 

"But—"

Bucky brandished his wallet threateningly and Steve blushed even harder, begrudgingly accepting the money with a mumbled ‘thanks’, but not without looking every bit like a pouty toddler bullied into eating his vegetables for the day to make Bucky feel extra villainous.

Steve put the money away and got straight to cutting a slice of the apple brioche, plating it and bringing it out to Bucky. 

“Here, hope you like it!”

Bucky took the time to admire the glossy layer of icing slathered over the top of the brioche and felt his mouth start to water uncontrollably. He’d always had a weakness for sweet things. It was honestly a miracle that none of the supervillains had ever tried tying a box of sweets to the end of a fishing pole to lure him in. 

Bucky finally couldn't resist taking a bite and— 

Hints of cinnamon and juicy apple wrapped in the fluffiest of breads. _Fuck_. How was everything that Steve made always so fucking heavenly? 

Before he knew it, he had gobbled up everything, licking the last bit of icing off of his fingers. 

Steve watched him go with pure amusement, and then giggled once. 

"You have icing on your cheek." 

Bucky wiped it away with as much dignity as someone who had just devoured a brioche slice with his bare hands like some feral creature instead of using the utensils meticulously laid out by Steve.

Bucky glanced up at Steve, face now icing-free and dignity marginally restored. He thought about it for exactly two seconds and then figured, why not? 

"You have flour in your hair." 

“Again?!” 

It was almost comical how Steve's eyes instantly went wide, hands flying up to pat the pillowy fluff he called hair, then giving the most confused, not-adorable frown when his hands came away speckless and flour-free. 

"Huh? But there isn't any—" Steve snapped up to Bucky, face starting to turn full red. “You jerk!”

Bucky fought the urge to smile, but Steve was donning the poutiest expression known to mankind, practically indistinguishable from the same red apples he used in all his desserts, and there was just no holding back the persistent upward tilt to his lips any longer. 

Steve stared, his legendary pout vanishing in favour of blinking owlishly at Bucky for a few stunned seconds. Then he started to flush even redder, which hadn’t seemed humanly possible.

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“N-nothing!” Steve said in a strangled voice, immediately ducking his head. “I’m uh— I just realised the oven’s probably— Yes, I definitely should go check on the oven. There's stuff inside that uhm— I’ll be back!” He practically fled into the kitchen, disappearing even faster than a wild rabbit diving back into its burrow. 

Bucky stared after him, but said nothing. Was he really that out of practice with this ‘smiling’ thing? Probably.

He heard some mumbling from the kitchen, and then Sam suddenly slid out of the doorway, looking straight at Bucky.

“Sorry. Just ignore him. He’s an idiot.” 

“I heard that!” came the indignant cry, and Sam snorted, rolling his eyes.

A minute later, Steve came back out from the kitchen, somewhat back to his normal puppy self apart from his face, which was still tinged slightly red. 

"So… how's the _oven,_ huh, Steve? And the _stuff_ inside?" Sam asked.

"Shut up," Steve mumbled and walked up straight to Bucky. 

He thrust out a paper bag. 

"For you," he said without looking up, and without even waiting for a response, he walked himself right back into the kitchen.

"Uhm…" 

Sam rolled his eyes again and looked straight at Bucky. 

"Sorry, he's really an idiot."

“I can still hear you!” 

\----------

When Bucky got back to the tower, he found yet another cinnamon apple cookie inside, this time with a small note included in the bag.

A large ‘JERK’ was hastily written at the center along with an angry face, but at the bottom, it said: 

_Thanks for dropping by._

Bucky’s heart did a weird flippity-flop upon reading that, though the Hydra-serum should have made him immune to getting cardiac arrhythmias of all kinds. 

Nope. 

It was probably just his imagination.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time the phoenix made an appearance at an Avengers battle, it was plant monster galore day. 

Today’s main attraction featured a giant ten-storey-high venus fly trap abomination, flanked by an appropriately themed army of snarly bipedal flower minions whose main attack pattern was probably derived from one of those mindless video games Barton was always playing, full of swinging vines and toxic spikes. Predictable, but nonetheless unpleasant to deal with.

Bucky shot a grenade into the nearest plant minion in front of him, and it promptly exploded into a pile of foul-smelling green goo, a large chunk of it splattering straight onto Bucky's perfectly polished boots. 

Well, he stood corrected, these stupid weeds were a  _ fucking pain in the ass  _ to deal with. 

Bucky shot another minion with the grenade, earning himself a whole glob of plant goo deposited right onto his hair. Great, just fucking  _ great _ . This was worse than the one time some smug pigeon shitted on him while he was casually minding his own business putting holes through the city's alien invader of the week. 

"Fucking gross!" Barton grumbled as a plant minion exploded near him, splattering a fair share of smelly goo onto his face. 

"Ha ha, sucks to be you guys," Stark teased as he did a fly-by in his fully goo-resistant armour, lasering a couple of minions while he did so and slathering even more goo onto Barton's already goo-ed up face. "Enjoy your little plant facial!" 

"Screw you, Tony!" 

"You wish!" 

"Really, boys?" Natasha said as she jumped in to zap a minion to death with her shock gauntlets. She darted away just in time to dodge the subsequent exploding slime fest, and Barton scoffed, "Show off." 

Natasha smirked and shot another charging plant minion in the head (flower head?), causing it to explode right in Barton's general direction. 

Barton shrieked and tried to dodge, but ended up stepping straight into another goo pile on the floor, sinking all the way up to his knee. 

"Aw, no."

The disgusting plant army was no match for the collective might of the Avengers, and within a short half hour, the army was completely wiped out, leaving the last plant monstrosity standing—the giant venus fly trap monster. 

It was snapping at them viciously, giant vines slapping from side to side with enough power to tear down actual buildings. 

Stark gave out the orders and they launched a heavy assault on the plant monster; Thor with his lightning, Hulk with his fists, Stark with his lasers and missiles, and the three assassins with every kind of gun power imaginable. 

A few minutes went by and they were barely making a dent in the plant monster. It had an unexpectedly thick bark-like skin which was tough enough on its own to penetrate, and coupled with its insane regenerative ability, any damage successfully dealt to the monster was quickly reversed. 

"Any ideas, guys?" Stark asked, after his third unsuccessful attempt at lasering the plant monster in the face. 

"HULK SMASH!!" 

"Yeah bud, you tried that and got tossed into a skyscraper."

"HULK SMASH AGAIN!!" 

"Well, can't say I'm that keen to see you score another bowling strike into a perfectly decent skyscraper, even if I have more than enough money to pay for it.” 

"What about we get a bunch of goats to eat it?" 

"Seriously, Bird-eye? That's your genius idea?" 

"Hey, you never know! Goats are terrifying creatures." 

"What about that super freeze chemical you used to turn the pool into ice last month?" Natasha suggested.

"I feel the need to remind you that it was an accident," Stark retorted. "But hm... actually not a bad idea. Maybe if I modified the percentage of liq—" 

"My friends, I believe we have a guest on the scene," Thor suddenly interrupted, pointing to the side. 

"Guest?"

Everyone turned to look at where he was pointing.

Down by the foot (root?) of the monster, where a large pile of rubble lay, stood a tiny ass chicken bird proudly perched on one of the rubble pieces, glaring up at the plant monster with as much vehemence as something of its miniature chicken size could possibly muster. 

"Is that the phoenix?" 

“What on earth is birdy doing there?! It's gonna get pancaked!” Barton exclaimed. 

Oblivious to the danger of being turned into an actual chicken nugget, the bird hopped up to the next debris chunk and peered up at the monster again, looking far too calm for a creature its size to be casually standing next to a colossal monster easily more than a hundred times bigger than it. 

Its amber eyes started to glow, then it took to the air and puffed up, spontaneously erupting into bright orange flames which were barely the size of a candlelight as compared to the monster. 

“Don’t tell me it’s gonna—” 

Too late. 

The now flaming chicken fearlessly dive-bombed into the giant monster with a loud ‘caw’, and it was easily the most fucking ridiculous sight Bucky had ever seen in his life (and this was including a full seventy years with Hydra, so that was really saying something). 

The resulting impact created exactly the kind of explosion as anticipated—extraordinarily tiny—but the flaming chicken still looked so damn proud of itself, fluffing out its smoking feathers and landing to admire its hard work. 

“Uh…” 

The plant monster didn’t even notice the baby explosion that just occurred, still on a rampage trying to flatten down every single building in sight and to swat Iron Man out of the sky, though Stark was doing an excellent job at being an absolute mosquito and dodging everything. 

The chicken bird started to preen itself, utterly unconcerned about the loud crashes and dust spraying everywhere. 

A few seconds passed, then a minute, but the idiotic bird still didn’t budge. Then— 

“Is it just me, or is the fire growing?” Stark asked. 

Bucky looked up from his grenade launcher, and true enough, the tiny patch of flames from the chicken fire bomb impact was starting to spread, growing from a mini candlelight to a slightly larger campfire. 

“What the…” 

“Legends say nothing can put out a phoenix’s flames except the phoenix itself,” Thor said, eyes wide.

All the Avengers watched speechlessly as the fire continued to spread, bit by bit, until the entire monster was completely engulfed in flames, unable to be extinguished no matter how much it writhed and screeched. 

Then finally, the monster went completely still, vines dropping to the ground. 

The chicken bird gave a satisfied nod at its work, and just like the unicorn always did, it vanished into thin air, taking all the flames along with it. 

“Wow. Birdy is fucking incredible.” 

The now dead plant monster shuddered one final time, before exploding into a million pieces. Chunks of disgusting plant flesh and equally foul-smelling goo immediately rained down from the sky, completely soaking Bucky from head to toe with the slimy substance. 

_ Fuck.  _ He totally should have seen that coming.

“Not again!” Barton squealed from the side, equally drenched in the goo. Natasha remained completely goo-free, having enough sense to duck behind Barton and use him as a human shield right before the volley of plant shit came plummeting down.

“Ha ha,” Stark teased as he descended from the sky, still proudly encased in his protective armour. His face plate came up so he could mock all the goo-ed up Avengers with that stupid smirky expression of his. “That’s what you get wh—”

Barton grabbed a slab of goo from the ground and chucked it right into Stark’s face. 

“Mmph— FUCK! FUCK YOU, BARTON!!” 

“You wish! HAHA!”

“Oh, you are so on!” Stark shouted, dipping his hand into a pile of plant goo nearby and drawing up a handful. “Come here, you stupid bird brain, I’m not done with you yet!” 

Barton gave a squeak and made a run for it.

The two quickly devolved into actual children, chasing each other across the city and hurling what was basically plant entrails at each other in a more morbid version of a snowball fight. 

Natasha looked at them go, then sighed loudly. 

_ “Children.”  _

\----------

Saving the world almost every week was no easy task.

It demanded patience, teamwork, an overly morbid sense of humour, and the most important of all: the ability to use and consume an insane amount of calories.

So it really wasn't all that surprising to find the Avengers gathered at the nearest available food place after most battles, ordering three servings of everything from the menu and leaving a tip large enough to pay off a full year's worth of rent.

Today was no exception, and after putting an abrupt end to the latest world-ending threat of dinosaur robots, they decided to head to Steve’s cafe to grab some of those delicious sugary treats. 

Stark was the first to burst through the cafe doors, still clad in his Iron Man armour and completely covered from head to toe in dust and grime. 

“Hey, Steve! Steven? Stephen? Stephan? I can never remember.” 

“Still just Steve. Hey, guys!” Steve said with a smile, welcoming them in even though they were all absolutely filthy from the battle. "Thanks for all your hard work. Do you guys want a pie? There's one fresh from the oven!" 

"Ooh, yes," Barton said, practically salivating like a dog. “You’re the best, Steve!” 

Steve grinned and went to the kitchen to get the pie out. At the same time, Sam stepped out of the kitchen, wearing a red-checkered apron. He nodded at the Avengers in greeting. 

“Oh hey, the dinosaurs are gone already?” 

“Hey Sam!” Barton waved enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, all gone. Dumb robot dinosaurs.” 

“We saw some of it on TV. Hulk gave a really good bash to the giant T-rex.” 

“He did? That’s uh, good, I guess,” Banner said, rubbing his head bashfully. 

They continued chatting about the battle for a few more minutes, until Steve finally came out of the kitchen with the beautiful, glistening apple pie in hand, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

The Avengers made a collective “ooh” sound, staring wide eyed at the pie as Steve brought it over. 

“Here you go. I’ll go get some plates and— Hey, no, Clint! At least wash your hands!!” 

“Oof gub piee,” was Barton’s reply, mouth already stuffed full and with his hands entirely covered with crumbs. To think those same hands were previously  _ inside  _ one of those robot dinosaurs, touching machine oil and about a hundred other chemicals, more than half of which were definitely toxic. 

Natasha visibly sighed at that, poking Barton harshly in the side. 

Steve simply laughed and went to get plates and utensils for everyone else, but not before firmly confiscating the pie until Barton agreed to go wash his hands with soap. At least twice. 

The race was on then and everyone quickly devoured the first apple pie, then a second pie, a third, and quickly worked their way through the fourth and final pie Steve had in stock that day. 

Soon, only two slices remained. Stark claimed one with a triumphant stab of his fork, and Barton groaned out loud. 

“Aw seriously? That’s your  _ fourth  _ slice,” he said with his mouth full. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Natasha chastised from the side.

“Not my fault you’re so slow, birdbrain,” Stark retorted back, also with his mouth full. “How did that phrase go again? Early bird gets the slice of pie?” 

“You know that’s not how the phrase goes. Either way, joke’s on you. I’m reporting this travesty to Pepper. So much for—” Barton’s voice raised to a high falsetto. “—‘I’ll stick to a healthy diet from now on, I promise!’ ” 

Thor started laughing, and even Banner looked visibly amused, biting his lip to stifle his laugh. Stark’s eyes instantly narrowed, glaring at Barton. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Watch me,” Barton said, pulling out his phone and tapping on it vigorously with his grease-stained fingers. 

“JARVIS, turn off his phone.” 

“Wha— Hey! That’s cheating!” 

“What’s cheating is you being a little snitch and ratting me out to Pep! For the last time, my blood sugar is  _ fine! _ ” 

Stark and Barton started bickering as usual, and while the two top pie competitors were distracted, Bucky used all seventy years of experience as the legendary Winter Soldier to sneak up behind them and pull off the greatest heist of the century: stealing the last slice of pie from right under their noses. 

No one noticed (except Natasha, who noticed everything but simply couldn't care less, more than content to just watch the chaos unfold).

Bucky made a quick getaway to the back corner of the cafe to enjoy his spoils in private, and halfway through eating, someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder. 

Bucky looked up. 

Expecting to see an amused Natasha or maybe a disgruntled Barton (because Stark was less a touchy person and more a shouty person), Bucky froze when he realised it was a tiny, smiling Steve standing in front of him, fully equipped with his lethal blue eyes and fluffy gold hair. 

The tiny man glanced around furtively, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking as if he was about to commit the biggest crime of the century—which no, that title belonged to Bucky alone. He's the one that stole the last slice of pie. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow in question. 

Steve’s hand slid out, and he quickly dropped a cookie onto Bucky’s plate, carefully wrapped in a paper napkin. 

'Award for getting the last slice of pie' was written on the napkin, with a trophy and a smiley face drawn beside. 

What the...

Before Bucky could say or do anything, Steve hopped his way back to his usual spot behind the counter, but looping through the back entrance rather than simply walking across the cafe. 

That was the very moment Barton and Stark finally stopped bickering and looked down at the table, realising that the last slice of pie was in fact, missing.

"Wait, who stole the last slice?!" 

Bucky immediately swallowed the last bit of incriminating evidence (cookie included) and looked up, eyes directly meeting Steve's.

Steve grinned and winked at him. 

\----------

"I saw that," Natasha said later when they were back at the tower, tummies full and the last pie slice stealer still at large. 

Bucky knew exactly what she was referring to, and it was certainly not the fact that he was indeed the last pie slice stealer. 

"Saw what?" 

"Steve gave you a cookie." 

Bucky said nothing. 

"He's cute, isn't he?" 

"No," Bucky immediately said. 

Natasha smirked at him. "Sure, keep telling yourself that." 

\----------

The tower’s rooftop garden was quickly becoming Bucky’s new favourite place to seek refuge from his usual string of nightmares. It was always peaceful there, and Bucky could easily spend hours soaking in the scent of wet soil and listening to the leaves rustle in the wind. Much better than imagining himself in the cryo tube again, forever cold and drenched in blood, with the screams of the dead still echoing in his ears. 

The first time Bucky had gone there after a nightmare, it had been far from peaceful. He had barely managed to enjoy one minute of silence by himself before Stark came bursting through the doors like a noisy elephant, annoying the hell out of him and demanding he go down to the lab for a spontaneous arm maintenance session. 

The second time, it had been Barton who very conveniently happened to drop by (even though the garden was probably his least visited place in the whole tower), pestering Bucky for a video game match and dragging him down to the lounge room. 

The third time, Natasha had come by to sit with him. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. 

"I'm not gonna jump," Bucky immediately said.

There was a pause.

"Do you want me to leave?" 

Bucky didn't say anything in response, and Natasha sat there with him in silence for what must have been hours, all the way until the sun was up. She was nice like that. 

From then on, nobody came to bother Bucky whenever he came to the rooftop garden for his private plant therapy sessions.

Or so he thought. 

Because when Bucky went up to the rooftop garden that day, there was an unexpected visitor already waiting outside, looking equally surprised to see him there. 

It was a four-legged creature with a familiar horn poking out of its head—the goddamn unicorn, standing out in the open and looking doubly ethereal under the moonlight with its silver-white fur and sparkling gold mane and tail.

Bucky immediately sucked in a breath, freezing in place. He wasn’t prepared for this. 

The unicorn gave him a brief glance, bright blue eyes blinking slowly at him. Then without making a single sound, it carefully trotted away to admire the giant apple tree in the centre of the garden, entirely ignoring Bucky’s presence there. 

Bucky let out the breath. That suited him just fine. He stepped out into the garden, burying his hands deep inside his hoodie pocket and making his way to his favourite corner in the place—directly under the plum tree.

He sat down, shuffling in closer until his back was pressed up against the tree trunk. Once he was settled in his little leafy hideout, Bucky took a quick peek at the unicorn from the corner of his eyes. 

It hadn’t moved an inch, still back facing Bucky and staring up at the apple tree like it was the most interesting thing in the world (which to a horse, it probably was). Bucky’s eyes unwittingly wandered up the unicorn’s well-muscled body, focusing on the lush, silky strands of gold cascading down its neck like a waterfall. The mane was, as usual, perfectly groomed, with not a single strand out of place (and not to mention fluffy-looking, which kind of reminded Bucky of Steve, with golden hair arranged in a similar cloud-like fashion). 

Natasha braided the unicorn’s mane once after a battle, and throughout the entire braiding session, Bucky couldn’t help but be completely mesmerised by the way the golden strands twisted and curled, changing hues ever so slightly with the shifting light. 

Bucky’s fingers twitched in the direction of the unicorn, and he instantly looked away, curling his fingers tightly back into fists. 

No, he couldn’t. 

The thought of his bloody hands—or worse, his  _ metal  _ hand—touching something so pure and innocent… It made him want to throw up and wish he could lock himself back into a cryo chamber for the rest of eternity. 

Bucky curled into himself further, tucking his knees in and letting out a soundless sigh. He should just dig a hole into the ground and bury himself in it. That way at least he'd be exactly where he belonged, down in the darkness surrounded by all the dirt and soil. What a fitting end. 

He had no clue how long he spent in his little corner lost in his thoughts, but a soft noise from the front drew his attention, and he looked up.

The unicorn had moved from its spot under the apple tree, now standing about a foot nearer to Bucky's plum tree. 

All of a sudden without warning, the unicorn's horn started to glow a bright blue. Bucky tensed, eyes widening. The plum tree above him started shining as well, surrounded by the same blue light. Then a few seconds later, the tree itself actually started to  _ grow,  _ branches splitting and extending out, sprouting leaves, then flowers, until finally, it grew actual fruit. 

A snap, and a perfectly ripe plum dropped off its stem and promptly deposited itself into Bucky's waiting palm. 

What on earth?

The tree stopped glowing, and Bucky glanced up at the unicorn, who was carefully watching his reaction, ears flicking up.

Bucky swallowed.

“Uhm…” 

He looked back down at the plum, running his fingers over the small fruit. Smooth, plump and perfectly shaped.

Why would it give him this?

Bucky’s throat suddenly went tight, and he looked up at the unicorn once again.

"Thank you."

The unicorn perked up, nickering softly and wagging its tail back and forth like a dog. Then, in classic unicorn fashion, the magic horse vanished into thin air.

\----------

The plum tasted as sweet as it looked, and after some considerable thought, Bucky brought an apple up to the rooftop garden the very next day, nestling it just beneath the apple tree.

When he came back to check on it the following morning, the apple was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

The next time Bucky headed down to Royal Gala Cafe, he clocked in at twenty-five minutes, beating his personal best of twenty-seven minutes but still being miles away from the actual fifteen minute walk it was supposed to be. 

Still, progress was progress, even if the entire journey remained as torturous as always.

Steve immediately brightened upon seeing Bucky, popping up from the counter like a little meerkat and greeting, "Oh hi, Bucky! You’re back!" 

"Hi," Bucky greeted back. 

“How have you been?” 

“Alright,” Bucky said and shrugged. “What about you?” 

“Good, I guess! Sam’s in DC visiting his family so I have to handle all the delivery orders by myself. It’s honestly a miracle how I got through the whole weekend without him, but he’ll be back tomorrow, so thank goodness for that.” 

Bucky nodded, and Steve just grinned at him. “Anyway, what do you want to try today?” 

Bucky glanced over at the display case. 

Apple pudding, apple fritters, caramel apple cheesecake and about ten other apple-flavoured desserts. Why were there always so many damn choices? 

Then Bucky caught sight of a little stand on top of the display case that said: _Weekly special! Apple cinnamon waffles with vanilla ice cream._

Well, that would do. 

“Waffles?” 

“Good choice! I actually just got the waffle maker last week, so I’ve been experimenting with it for a bit. Do you want a drink?” 

“Uhm, that tea from before was nice.” 

“Okay!” 

Bucky made his payment, though he was definitely undercharged for the tea, which Steve claimed was because of a special set promotion when ordered with the waffles even though it was stated nowhere on the menu that such a promotion existed in the first place. 

“I’m the owner. I make the rules,” Steve said, giving the most stupidly determined stare Bucky had ever seen come from a human golden retriever puppy, and Bucky tried not to sigh, before promptly accepting his fate and paying whatever amount Steve seemed content to charge him. Arguing with Steve was a ludicrous waste of time anyway. 

Battle won, Steve turned around to get started on brewing the tea and making the waffles, and while his back was turned, Bucky pulled out his wallet and took out a ten, surreptitiously stuffing it down into the tip jar. 

After further consideration, he took out another ten and stuffed it in. 

_Perfect._

None the wiser, Steve continued happily making the waffles, buttering up the waffle maker and pouring a generous ladleful of batter in. 

Bucky went to an empty table to take a seat, and a few minutes later, Steve came by with the cup of tea and waffles, gently placing them on the table.

“Thanks.” 

Steve grinned. “Hope you like it!” 

Steve returned back to the counter, and Bucky eagerly picked up the utensils, cutting out a small bite of waffle and popping it into his mouth. 

Warm waffle, still crispy at the edges and coupled with juicy apples and vanilla ice cream—once again just pure perfection on a plate. 

Steve watched Bucky devour the waffles with a bright smile on his face. “Glad you like it.” 

Within a few short minutes, the plate was polished clean, and Bucky started sipping his tea. 

Halfway through the cup, Steve suddenly spoke. 

“Uhm, Bucky, can I ask you something?” 

Bucky looked up from his tea.

“What’s your favourite food?” 

“Don’t have one.” 

“Don’t have one?” 

“Everything’s… nice to eat,” Bucky said simply. _And better than anything Hydra had ever fed him_ — _that was, if they remembered to._

“Oh,” Steve said, thinking for a bit. “Then how about the desserts you’ve tried here? What’s the best so far?” 

Bucky thought about it. 

“Waffles.” 

Steve looked at him. “You’re not saying that because you just ate the waffles, are you?” 

A pause.

“No.” 

Steve giggled. 

“Are you the kind of person whose favourite food is just whatever you’re eating now?” 

Bucky shrugged, and Steve laughed again, the sound of which made a strange warm, tingling sensation run down Bucky’s spine. 

Nope. 

Probably just his arm acting up again. Referred pain, or something. 

Bucky resumed drinking his tea, and Steve went back to doing whatever he liked to do back at the counter—usually either doodling on takeout boxes or doodling on receipt papers. 

Then later, when Bucky was getting ready to leave, Steve quickly scampered over to him, holding up a small paper bag in his hands. 

“Uhm… before you go, here. It’s a gift.” 

Oh god, not this ‘free gift’ business again.

Bucky gave Steve a look, and Steve blinked up at him, eyes starting to morph into those ridiculous world peace inducing doe-like eyes that would put even an abandoned kitten to shame. 

God, how was Bucky supposed to stand a chance against _that?_ And more importantly, how had nobody sued this tiny human for unlawful coercion yet? 

Bucky sighed and accepted the paper bag, but making sure to shoot Steve an appropriately disappointed look as he did so. “Thanks.” 

“It’s just a small gift,” Steve mumbled, entirely guiltless. “And uhm, there’s a brochure inside.” 

“Brochure?” 

“Yeah. I’m uhm, thinking of holding some baking classes, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.” 

Bucky blinked at that, and Steve quickly added, 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about having any prior baking experience. There’s beginner classes available. And uhm, if group lessons aren’t your thing, I’m more than happy to give solo lessons.” Steve started blushing a little. “But anyway, you don’t have to decide now. Just go back and think about it. My number’s on the brochure, so uhm, feel free to message me anytime. Or call. Whatever’s more comfortable for you.”

Bucky nodded. 

“Thanks.” 

“Hope to see you back here again, Bucky!” 

\----------

The brochure was like any ordinary advertisement brochure, but Bucky was studying it like it was the most interesting piece of paper in existence. 

_Beginner baking lessons. Learn all about the basics of baking: Cakes, breads, cupcakes and more!_

Bucky was actually _thinking_ about doing it, which was already more that could be said about pretty much anything else the other Avengers or his long-suffering therapist had tried to encourage him to do. 

It would be easy. Price was certainly not an issue, and neither was time. 

The only problem was actually going out of his way to interact with another human being apart from the Avengers. 

Going to the cafe and talking to Steve was one thing, but to willingly spend time together on a regular basis… 

Bucky didn’t know if he was ready for that, or if he ever would be. 

What if things went wrong? Bucky thought about tiny radiant Steve who laughed and smiled more easily than a bird took to flying. Bucky didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself if Steve got _hurt_ because of him. 

But what if things _didn’t_ go wrong? 

Bucky didn’t even want to consider that as a possible outcome. Hope was a dangerous thing. 

He let out a sigh, and at that moment, Natasha walked into the kitchen. 

She briefly smiled at Bucky, and then nodded towards the brochure Bucky was still delicately holding in his hands. 

“What’s that?” she asked, and Bucky immediately folded it up, crumpling it into a tight ball and dropping it into the nearby trash bin. 

“Nothing.” 

“Huh.” 

\----------

Exactly two weeks later, Bucky wanted to curse himself. 

He should have seen this coming a mile away, he really should have. All seventy years of being a legendary assassin gone down the drain now because of his sheer carelessness.

His first mistake had been throwing the brochure into the bin in full view of Natasha. 

His next mistake had been not noticing nosy Natasha fishing said brochure out from the bin after he left. 

Then his final mistake came when he left his phone unattended in his room for a mere three minutes while he went out to the kitchen to get a snack. 

And so, the consequences: 

“So, Steve’s coming over right now and your first lesson is starting in exactly fifteen minutes,” Natasha said, knocking on Bucky's door one bright, innocent Saturday morning. 

Bucky stared at her.

“What.” 

“Your baking lesson with Steve, of course.” 

_“What.”_

“Oh, did I forget to tell you about it? Must have slipped my mind.” 

Bucky continued staring at her. 

“What did you do?” 

"Signed you up for private beginners baking lessons. Look, there’s no time to waste. It’s fourteen minutes to the lesson now. You’d better hurry up and get changed, unless of course, you want Steve to see you looking like… this,” Natasha gestured to Bucky’s disaster self—with his uncombed hair and his old, faded, stretched out hoodie. 

Was she fucking serious?

The expression she gave him was entirely a hundred percent serious, and Bucky glared at her and let out an exasperated growl (which unfortunately only fueled her obvious amusement). 

He was so going to fucking kill her. 

“Have fun!” Natasha said, a little too gleefully, and Bucky slammed the door in her face. 

Nope, killing her was definitely not going to cut it now. First, he was going to disembowel her, organ by organ, and _then_ proceed with the murder. 

But before any of that could even happen...

Bucky definitely needed to get changed. 

And probably comb his hair. 

\----------

Steve arrived exactly on time, appearing from the elevator as a bouncing blond ball of excitement. 

“Hello Bucky!” 

“Hi.” 

“How are you today? Ready for the first lesson?” 

It would be so easy for Bucky to simply explain that this was all a mistake, that it was just a dumb prank by the forever meddling Natasha, but one look at Steve’s sunny face made Bucky instantly swallow up the thought and viciously beat it out from existence. There’s no way he was going to be responsible for the sad, guilty puppy looks Steve was bound to give him if he did that. No human alive should be subjected to that kind of pure torture. 

So Bucky sighed internally, gave himself exactly one second to mourn the loss of his Saturday morning, and nodded at Steve. 

Steve grinned, and dumped a whole bag's worth of ingredients onto the counter. 

"Okay, so for starters, I thought we'll try something simple. Chocolate brownies! You've never baked before, have you?"

"No," Bucky said—but actually _yes_ , many times, many years ago before Hydra and long before he ever fell from that freight train of doom. He used to bake pies with his mother. Or was it cake? Bread? Bucky couldn't really remember anymore. 

"That's okay, I'm sure you'll pick it up quickly. Brownies are easy. Oh… uhm, do you have any baking equipment? I brought some in case you don't.”

“It’s probably in here somewhere,” Bucky said, opening the cabinets and drawers around, all filled to the brim with every kind of kitchen tool and appliance imaginable—courtesy of Stark, of course. 

“Okay! Let’s get started then!” Steve declared, slapping down a recipe onto the counter with one hand and proudly brandishing a spatula in the other hand like he was preparing for war. 

Bucky gave the recipe a quick read-over as Steve started laying out the ingredients on the counter. 

Well, this looked simple enough. He could totally do this.

\----------

Ten minutes later, the kitchen looked like something straight out of a disaster zone—even worse than the city after an alien invasion. 

First the bag of flour exploded in Bucky’s face, because who knew fresh new bags of flour had the explosive power of a grenade? And what’s worse was that Bucky couldn’t even be properly mad about it, not when Steve immediately burst out laughing upon seeing Bucky’s face coated in flour, which obviously prompted the very reasonable response of hurling a handful of flour into Steve’s face. 

Next, Bucky cracked approximately a whole egg’s worth of shells into the brownie batter, and then spent a good ten minutes trying to fish every last shard of shell out from the batter while Steve watched from the side, obviously amused and trying not to laugh. Again, Bucky couldn’t even be mad about it, especially not when Steve had a small white patch of flour stuck to his nose the whole time—which of course, Bucky simply chose not to inform him about. 

Then the cherry on the top was when Bucky added baking _soda_ instead of baking _powder_ into the batter, prompting him to have to throw away the old batter and re-do it from the beginning again—re-melting the butter, re-measuring the flour and suffering through the whole tedious shell-picking all over again when he accidentally deposited another egg’s worth of shells into the batter. 

Steve was predictably amused by it all and was doing a terrible job of hiding it, and that only made Bucky want to hurl another handful of flour into his face, because seriously, how was Bucky supposed to know they were different things?? Things had changed since he came out from the cryo-tube, alright?

But eventually, after only an eternity, the batter was finally ready to be put into the oven. 

Steve clapped when Bucky threw it in and closed the oven door, setting the time for precisely twenty-five minutes. 

“Yay! Good job!!” Steve cheered. “Now it’s time to clean up and wait.” 

_Finally._ Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief, stretching his back once and getting ready to clean up the whole kitchen. 

He got out a cloth and immediately got to work, starting to wipe down the counter and clean up all the butter and flour stains. 

Halfway through doing so, he caught sight of the not-so-subtle Steve trying to quietly sneak off all the dirty bowls and equipment into the sink. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake— 

Bucky instantly turned around, staring down Steve with his best unimpressed glare. 

“Put the bowl down, Steve.” 

Steve froze with a bowl in one hand and a soaped up sponge in the other.

“But you’re busy cleaning the counter, and I can help wash the dishes! We can be faster that way!” 

“ _Put the bowl down, Steve.”_

Steve sulked, the effect of which was slightly ruined by the ridiculous flour stain that was still dotted right onto the tip of his nose. 

“But—” 

“No.” 

Steve sulked even more, and Bucky was a hundred percent not going to fall for that. 

Not at all.

\----------

Steve ended up washing five bowls and a single spoon, looking oh so ridiculously pleased with himself while he did so, like washing dishes by hand was the most fun activity in existence despite there being a perfectly functioning dishwasher in the kitchen. 

“You’re a nightmare child,” Bucky grumbled under his breath. 

“I’m not a child!” Steve protested. “I’m twenty-six!” 

“I’m at least a hundred, so you’re practically a _child._ ” 

“That doesn’t count! Biologically, you’re at most twenty-seven!!” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, and Steve blushed. 

“It was on Wikipedia, alright?” 

Bucky probably should have felt uncomfortable at the thought of someone reading up on him (and learning about all his crimes), but this was _Steve,_ and Bucky simply raised the other eyebrow, making the tiny man blush even more. 

“I read up on everyone! It's not just you!!” 

“Okay.”

“It’s true!!” 

_“Okay."_

“Bucky!” Steve started to pout, which honestly just looked extra ridiculous with the white flour stain on his nose that he had somehow _still_ not noticed after all this time. He looked like a pouty white-nosed Rudolph. A _tiny_ pouty white-nosed Rudolph. 

Bucky resisted the urge to smirk.

\----------

When the oven finally dinged exactly twenty-five minutes later, the kitchen was back to its original speckless state. 

Bucky got a pair of oven mitts and took out the tray of brownies, with Steve peering over his shoulder and bouncing on his feet. 

“Looks good!” 

It really _did_ look good, Bucky admitted. Smelled ridiculously good too. 

Waiting for it to cool down was pure torture, and when Bucky was finally able to slice it and dig in, he immediately wolfed down a whole slice before picking up another, quickly wolfing it down too.

Dark, rich chocolate with gooey pockets of melted chocolate inside. Fuck, this was totally worth all that trouble with the flour and the eggs and the ridiculous baking _powder._

“Good?” Steve asked quite needlessly, beaming at Bucky like a proud mother hen. 

Bucky offered out a slice for Steve, and he took it with a shy ‘thanks’, biting into it and grinning some more. 

“Mmm, this is good! You did really great!!” 

"Thanks to you," Bucky said. 

"Well, you did all the hard work. You honestly did great for someone who’s completely new to baking!” Steve said very sincerely, quickly popping in the last mouthful of brownie and grinning some more. “Anyway, that's it for today! We’ll try a different recipe next week, alright?” 

Bucky just nodded, taking a third slice of brownie and quickly wolfing it down. God this was just incredible. 

Steve giggled at that and started to pack up all his things back into his bag. 

It took a few minutes, and when Steve was all packed up and ready to go, Bucky finally decided to tell him. 

“You have flour on your nose.” 

Steve didn’t do his usual panic dance routine. Instead, he looked up at Bucky squarely, narrowing his eyes and pouting slightly. 

“Yeah right, I’m not falling for that again.” 

“You really do.” Bucky stared intently at Steve’s nose which was most definitely still covered in flour. It was seriously a miracle how Steve hadn’t noticed it after so long, let alone wiped it away out of pure accident. 

“Still not falling for that,” Steve said stubbornly, folding his arms. God, did he know how ridiculous he looked right now? 

Bucky’s lips twitched upwards, and he stepped forward, reaching out with a single finger to tap on Steve’s nose, before drawing back and showing him the white. 

Steve blinked dumbly, and then predictably flushed a deep red, quickly reaching up and rubbing his nose and basically the rest of his face and hair to get rid of all offending traces of flour. 

“Jerk,” Steve said weakly, glaring up at Bucky with as much fierceness as a round, furry hamster who stuffed one too many sunflower seeds into its puffy cheeks. 

This time, there was no force in the universe that could stop Bucky from smirking.

“Punk.”


	7. Chapter 7

And so, a new routine was quickly established.

Instead of sleeping in and spending good quality time wrapped up in a blanket burrito, Bucky's Saturday mornings were now spent in the kitchen with Steve for what could only be described as apocalyptic baking sessions of doom, because as it turned out, baking was the one thing Bucky was hopelessly and tragically talentless at. 

It was either:

“Bucky, you need to activate the yeast with _warm_ water, not _hot_ water!” 

Or:

“Bucky, you’re gonna burn the chocolate!” 

Or:

“Bucky, you need to let the cupcakes cool before frosting!” 

And today, on his fifth baking session with Steve, it was:

“Bucky, that’s not how you fold flour into the batter! Here, let me show you.” 

Bucky completely froze when Steve took hold of his hand—his _metal_ hand—and started to guide him to fold in the flour. 

“Do it like this,” Steve said, still holding onto Bucky’s hand and gently guiding the spatula through the batter. “You want to keep all the air inside the batter so the cake will remain fluffy. See?” 

Bucky swallowed, all tensed up, and then Steve suddenly realised what he was doing, eyes widening and quickly letting go of Bucky’s hand.

“Ah, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have do— I should have asked you first. I’m sorry.”

Bucky shook his head, and before he could stop himself, the question slipped out, “It doesn’t bother you?” 

Steve looked up at him and blinked once. As dumb the blond puppy often looked, sometimes Steve’s gaze could be as piercing as Natasha’s, looking straight into the deepest, darkest parts of Bucky’s soul. His broken soul. 

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, and in the end, he simply flashed his usual easy-going smile at Bucky, saying, “No, it’s just _you.”_

Bucky had no idea how to respond to that, and after a brief pause, he returned back to folding the flour into the batter—or at least, _attempting_ to. 

"Like this?"

"Yupp, that's better." 

Steve didn’t attempt to touch his metal arm again, but in the end, the sponge cake came out of the oven perfectly risen and still very much fluffy, not a sunken mess like what Bucky expected it to be. 

"So, now it's time for the best part: icing!" Steve declared, handing over a piping bag filled to the brim with delicious buttercream icing. 

After a brief hesitation, Bucky took the bag, gingerly cradling it in his hands as if it was a grenade bomb. 

Steve giggled. 

“You don’t have to be _that_ careful. It’s just icing.” 

Yeah, _no._ The last time Bucky was entrusted with a piping bag, Bucky had gotten icing all over the table, the floor, the sink, and practically everywhere else except the intended target of a set of innocent cupcakes on the turntable. That was definitely not a disaster Bucky wanted to repeat again. 

But Steve seemed entirely unfazed, pushing the turntable with the sponge cake closer to Bucky. 

“Come on, you can do it!” 

Bucky took a breath and brought the piping bag up above the cake. Just like Steve showed him last time. Hold it with both hands, aim the nozzle and sq— 

A string of cream spluttered out of the bag and plopped onto the table, missing the cake by at least five inches. 

Steve snorted and immediately bit down on his lip, trying his hardest not to laugh, and Bucky never felt more tempted in his life to unload the whole bag of icing on top of Steve. 

He’d probably miss, but still. 

_Dumb punk._

Eventually though, Bucky finished frosting the cake, which miraculously still managed to look somewhat edible. _Somewhat._

“Great job!” Steve cheered, ever the encouraging mother hen at the side. 

And now it was finally time for Bucky’s favourite part of the whole ordeal: eating. 

He opened the cupboard to get a few plates and a knife, slicing out two generous slices and handing one to Steve.

“Thanks! I—”

“Steve-o! Fancy seeing you here,” an annoyingly familiar voice suddenly called from the kitchen doorway. 

None other than Stark walked in, closely followed by Pepper, who grinned and waved at the both of them. 

“Hi Steve, Bucky.” 

“Oh, hi guys!” Steve greeted with a huge smile plastered on his face. “Are you two going somewhere?” 

“A company meeting.” 

“A _boring_ company meeting,” Stark added grumpily. “With all the disgusting snakes and bootlickers.” 

"It's an _important_ meeting, Tony. It's—"

"Yeah, yeah, important to keep up appearances for the company's future yada yada. But it still doesn't change the fact that it's boring and an utter waste of time. Why can't everything just be done through email? I didn't program the entire Stark messaging system for nothing." 

“I don't care if you find it boring, you still have to attend it. You already missed the last two meetings so you're definitely not worming your way out of this one."

"Oh come on! Just tell them I'm sick or— Oh! Tell them there's an Avengers emergency." 

"No." 

"But—"

"No, Tony. I'm not lying for you again! You're going and that's final!"

Stark let out a long groan in response, and Steve laughed.

“You have my condolences then. Maybe having some cake would help? Bucky made it.” 

Stark instantly lit up, and Pepper gave him a look, before sighing once and nodding.

“Sure, but make it a smaller slice for this one here,” Pepper said, gesturing towards Tony. "His blood sugar is—"

"My blood sugar is fine!"

Steve laughed again and got around to cutting two slices, one noticeably smaller than the other, much to Stark's dismay. 

“Oh, thanks. It looks really nice,” Pepper said, smiling as she took her slice of cake. 

She quickly started a conversation with Steve, something about gluten-free baking, which unfortunately meant that Bucky was left to entertain the insufferable Stark all by himself. 

“Huh, so this is where all those mysterious desserts in the lounge room keep coming from,” Stark commented idly as he walked over with his slice of cake. “Can I expect your monthly rent to be paid in desserts from now on, Buckoo?” 

Bucky didn’t bother responding, holding out a clean fork for him to take.

“Ooh, thanks.”

Stark took a small bite of the cake, nodding approvingly. 

“Huh, not bad,” he said as he took another bite. “Guess all that money didn’t go to waste after all. Good investment.” 

Money? What mo— _Oh._

So stupid Natasha had an accomplice in these baking lesson shenanigans after all. Always good to know. More people to add onto the to-murder list. 

Stark quickly polished the cake in a few more bites and put the empty plate back down onto the counter. 

“Honestly not bad. I’ll give it a solid three and a half stars out of five. Better than the cupcakes last week. Presentation was really lacking on that one,” Stark declared. “Anyway, I should probably get out of your way. Not a fan of being a third wheel here.” 

Bucky gave him a look, and Stark just grinned, making a quick escape back to Pepper’s side before Bucky could turn him into a kebab with the dessert fork.

Five minutes later, Stark and Pepper finally left for the company meeting, and right before the elevator doors closed, Bucky caught sight of Stark giving him an insufferable smirk and winking once.

"Go get some, Buckoo," Stark mouthed. 

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

\----------

One Friday morning, Bucky was rudely woken up by the blaring noise of the Avengers alarm. 

“Fuck,” Bucky swore, jumping up from his bed and quickly gearing up. He slipped on his boots and got all his knives and guns ready, before hurriedly making his way up to the rooftop where the quinjet was already fired up and ready for launch. 

“God, why does this always happen on Friday? Does the universe have something against good old Fridays?” Barton was grumbling, looking like he evidently just woke up with tangled messy hair and fresh stubble dotting his chin. 

Banner just gave a sympathetic smile, casually dressed in his usual lounge wear with a T-shirt and sweatpants unlike the other Avengers who were geared from head to toe in their respective uniforms. Granted, he was also the only Avenger who didn’t actually _need_ one. 

“Invasions don’t wait for no one,” Natasha said, somehow looking as impeccable as always unlike everyone else. “Now, what’s the situation this time?” 

“Same old, same old. Alien invasion, of course. Briefing on board,” Stark said, his face plate briefly coming up. “JARVIS?” 

“Ready when you are, sir.” 

“Cool. Let’s go, guys,” Stark urged, stepping up into the quinjet. 

“Wait, what about Thor?” 

“Won’t be joining us,” Natasha said. “He was called back to Asgard yesterday night.” 

“Damn, not again,” Barton sighed. “Well, hopefully we can settle this by lunchtime. I have important afternoon Friday plans to get back to.” 

“You mean napping? Or destroying my air vents?” Stark questioned. 

“The air vents are cozy!” 

“Says the person who left a huge hole in the gym ceiling because you somehow missed the last hundred times I told you that the vents aren't made for human inhabitation.” 

“That was ju—”

“ _Boys,”_ Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Enough.”

“Yes ma’am,” both of the boys said in unison, giving Natasha a fake salute. 

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Natasha sighed and stepped up onto the quinjet. “Come on, let’s just get this over and done with. I’m sure we all have important Friday plans to get back to.”

\----------

Four hours later, the Avengers were definitely not getting this over and done with anytime soon. 

“Tony, what’s the situation up there?” Natasha barked, now drenched in sweat and with grime smeared all over her face. 

“Four of the—scratch that, another one just hatched. _Five_ of the manta-ray serpent things still in the air. Hulk’s engaged in one at the end of the street. God, why is it that we always get the worst alien visitors whenever Thor isn’t around? It’s like the fucking universe knows.” 

“HULK SMASH WORM!!” Hulk yelled in the distance, the earth shaking as he used his bare hands to brutally pummel a serpent creature to the ground. 

“Keep at it, Hulk!” Stark said, zooming across the sky with a giant manta-ray serpent hot on his tail and screeching after him. “Ah fuck, another one just hatched. We have six now!” 

Bucky looked up from his perch on top of a building and spotted the newly hatched serpent—a giant grey creature with sharp teeth, a spiny tail and two manta-ray-like wings it was using to cruise through the air. 

“They seriously need to stop hatching faster than we can get rid of them!” Barton said, letting loose a volley of arrows at the creature. 

Bucky unloaded his fair share of bullets into it, making the creature roar and swipe its tail at them menacingly. 

Barton and Bucky jumped away, and Bucky took the chance to plunge a knife into the fleshy leathery tail, shredding through the thick muscle and drawing blood—which turned out to be a strange, silvery, metallic substance. 

“Aw fuck, why do the aliens always have the grossest blood ever?!” 

They jumped backwards again when the creature snarled and lunged at them, foul green saliva dripping down.

"Awful breath, too." 

Bucky wrinkled his nose at the rotten flesh stench and shot a bullet into its mouth, cracking one of its teeth and making the creature howl in pain. Barton followed suit with an explosive arrow of his own. 

More silvery blood was drawn, and with a snarl, the creature reared back and launched itself at the both of them once more. It instantly smashed through the rooftop with a single flap of its wings, spraying dust everywhere. 

“Any ideas apart from shoot it to death?!” Barton asked, at the same time Stark announced, “Uh guys, latest alien count is now eight.” 

“Nine,” Natasha corrected. “One just hatched down the street.” 

“Great. Just fucking fantastic. Let’s just—” Barton lunged back to dodge the next alien smash. “Fucking manta rays!” 

Bucky aimed another shot into the creature’s mouth. It screeched at him, more green saliva splattering out, and then—

There was a bright flash of light in the sky—almost like a crack of lightning. 

“Woah, what?!”

Bucky jerked up.

And there it was—the unicorn floating in the air, staring down the serpent with a ridiculously determined expression and looking entirely unconcerned about the sheer size difference between it and the serpent. And just hovering beside it was none other than the trusty chicken bird, flapping its tiny wings and looking equally determined. 

God, what's with mystical creatures and their inexplicable need to go fight monsters more than fifty times their size? 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried,” Barton muttered. 

“I’m sure they can take care of themselves,” Natasha said.

As if to prove the point, the unicorn neighed once, its horn starting to glow a bright blue. The giant alien creature was immediately frozen in the air, completely immobilised by magic. Right after, the chicken bird lit itself on fire and dove down, slamming into the alien creature and setting it aflame before swooping back up with a squawk.

The alien creature began to writhe in pain, screeching incessantly, but nothing it did could extinguish the flames, and within a few short minutes, it was entirely burnt to a crisp. 

“That’s one down for the count,” Barton said. 

The unicorn and chicken bird immediately turned their attention to the next alien creature. Again, the unicorn immobilised it with magic and the chicken bird finished it off, quickly reducing it to ashes. Then the pair moved on to the next. And next. 

Bucky didn’t even have to shoot another bullet, and within a couple of minutes, almost all of the manta ray creatures were put down by the unicorn and chicken bird, leaving one last alien creature in the air, flapping its wings and snapping its teeth ferociously in all directions.

The chicken bird and unicorn were starting to close in on it, though the unicorn seemed noticeably much more tired now, ears a little droopy and a tad less glow-y than usual. But still, it mustered up one final glow of its horn to freeze the creature mid-air, allowing Stark and the chicken bird to destroy it with laser beams and fire. 

“Woo hoo, that’s the last one!” Stark cheered. 

Then almost instantly, the blue glow surrounding the unicorn faded, and it practically plummeted from the sky, dropping down like a deadweight before catching itself at the last second and clumsily landing on the ground. 

“Woah, are you okay?!” 

The chicken bird dove down to the unicorn with a concerned squawk, dropping down just in front of it and making a soft crooning noise. 

The unicorn snorted in response as if to say “I’m fine”, though it still looked completely exhausted, ears tilted back. The phoenix made another noise, this time sounding slightly disapproving.

“You okay there, Twilight Sparkle?” Stark asked, similarly landing on the ground and walking up to the horse. 

The chicken bird immediately hopped nearer to the unicorn, letting out a sharp warning chirp.

“Jeez Fawkes, I just want to make sure he’s okay.” 

The phoenix continued staring at Stark, not moving an inch, and Stark didn’t attempt to step closer. 

“Uh, are you okay?” Stark asked again. 

The unicorn looked up briefly and snorted once in Stark’s direction, then vanished into thin air, nowhere to be seen. Its bird friend quickly performed the vanishing act as well, leaving Stark to stare blankly at empty space. 

“Cool, nice talk,” Stark muttered to himself. 

“Aw, horsey and birdy. I hope they’re okay.” 

“Guess magic has its costs after all,” Natasha commented through the comms. “But anyway, we can worry about that later. We still have some civilians to save.”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

“Don’t call me captain.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Call me ma’am one more time, Stark, and you can say goodbye to your coffee stash forever.” 

“Ha, good luck on that, be—”

“That includes that super secret stash you hid behind the fake wall panel in the lab. And basement.”

“Oh, come on!!” 

\----------

Later that night, Bucky went up to the rooftop garden to check if the unicorn would turn up.

It didn’t, and he placed an apple on the ground just underneath the apple tree before he left. Just in case.

\----------

The next morning, not only was the apple still untouched, but Steve was also five minutes late for their baking lesson. 

The tiny blond man eventually arrived, and the moment he stepped out of the elevator, Bucky immediately knew something was off. 

“Are you okay?” 

Steve looked up, smiling at Bucky as usual—although it looked somewhat strained today, like the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” 

It was the most obvious lie Bucky had ever heard, but then Steve started explaining about the recipe they were going to try today, and Bucky decided to let it slide. 

They were trying a fruit roll cake recipe today, and throughout the entire baking process, Bucky kept noticing even more things off about Steve. 

He was hiding it well, but Bucky was the Winter Soldier, and the Winter Soldier noticed everything—like the way Steve’s voice seemed slightly hoarse at times, or how he seemed paler than usual, teetering slightly on his tiny feet like he was going to topple over at any moment. 

Was Steve sick? 

Then, while Bucky was mixing the batter, he noticed Steve almost dozing off at the side, eyes struggling to stay open. 

Bucky put the bowl of batter down and walked up to Steve. 

“Steve, are you okay?” 

Instantly, Steve shot up, eyes wide.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” Steve gave him that painfully forced smile again, and Bucky frowned. “Let’s get back to baking, yeah? The batter should be just about finished by now.” 

Bucky frowned some more, but Steve seemed adamant about returning back to baking, so Bucky let it go once again. 

After another two instances of catching Steve almost dozing off in the span of ten minutes, Bucky suddenly had a genius idea.

“Do you want to watch something while the cake’s baking?”

Steve’s answer was immediate. “Sure! What do you want to watch?” 

Bucky looked up at Steve. 

“Wildlife documentary.” 

\----------

It worked like a charm, and within mere minutes of the documentary playing, Steve was sound asleep on the couch, curled into himself like a tiny mouse with strands of blond hair flopping over his eyes. He looked exceptionally small like that, fragile even, but relaxed and peaceful— _cute_ , his mind unhelpfully added. 

With all the stealth of the Winter Soldier, Bucky shuffled towards the sleeping man, using his right hand to delicately sweep away Steve’s hair and press the back of his hand against Steve’s forehead. 

Just as Bucky suspected, Steve’s forehead was burning hot. 

_Fever._

God, he’d been sick this whole time. Why didn’t Steve say anything? 

The answer came just as easily. Because it was _Steve,_ and this was such a _Steve_ thing to do. 

Bucky let out a sigh, and he got back up, pattering towards his bedroom and pulling out the fluffiest, warmest blanket he could find lying around and going back out. 

Bucky gently draped it across the sleeping man, tucking the corners in, and just that moment, Steve’s phone buzzed once on the coffee table. The screen lit up. 

_One new message from Sam._

_‘Where are you?? I specifically told you to stay home!’_

The phone buzzed again. 

_Two new messages from Sam._

_‘God, I swear, if you are where I think you are, I’m gonna fucking kill you when you get back.’_

And then again. 

_Three new messages from Sam._

_‘Steve???’_

Bucky frowned, and just a few seconds later, the phone started buzzing yet again. 

_Incoming call from Sam._

Bucky looked at Steve, still sound asleep, and after a brief hesitation, he picked up the phone and swiped right. 

“Steve, where the fuck are you?!”

“Uhm… Hi, Sam.” 

“Wait, _Bucky?_ ” 

There was a pause, and then Sam let out a loud sigh, muttering a string of expletives under his breath. “Steve’s with you, isn’t he? Is he okay?” 

“He has a fever, but he’s just sleeping now.” 

Sam sighed again. “God, I’m really sorry about this. I told him to stay home and reschedule the lesson with you but he obviously did neither of those things.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Anyway, I’m sorry again. I can come by and get him off your hands. Avengers Tower, right? Just gimme uhm… maybe fifteen minutes?” 

“Actually—” Bucky briefly looked down at Steve, still sound asleep and resting like what he was _supposed_ to be doing at home instead of running around and teaching Bucky how to make a stupid fruit roll cake of all things. “—it’s fine. He’s still sleeping now. I can get him to call you when he wakes up.” 

“You sure? I don’t want to impose.” 

“I don’t mind. He needs the rest anyway.” 

There was another pause. 

“Okay then. Get him to call me later,” Sam said. “I’m really sorry about this again. Steve… doesn’t have the strongest constitution to begin with. And he’s—" 

Bucky felt some part of him twist up. "Doesn't have the strongest constitution?" 

"Uhm, yeah. Steve… gets sick. A lot. It’s been like that since he was a little kid. And it's definitely not helping that he's just so goddamn _stubborn_ —too stubborn to even take care of himself.” 

Bucky snorted at that. Stubborn was definitely an understatement. 

“But anyway, thanks for taking care of him, Bucky. God knows he needs more people to take care of his sorry self. I’ll come by later, okay?” 

“Sure. See you then.” 

\----------

It was almost nine hours later when Steve finally woke up, blinking blearily with his hair tousled all over. He yawned once, then blinked some more, staring at the furry blanket he was tucked under. 

A few seconds of blinking, and Steve finally seemed to realise what was going on, bolting upright immediately. 

“Uhm…” 

“Good sleep?” Bucky asked from the opposite couch where he had been sitting for the past couple of hours. 

Steve blushed, staring meekly at Bucky. “Uhm, how long was I...” he trailed off. 

“Nine hours.”

“Nine hours?!” Steve’s eyes went even wider, glancing out of the window and confirming that yes, it was indeed evening now. “Oh my god. Nin— I’m so sorry, Bucky! I didn’t mean to fall asleep!” 

“You should have said you were sick.” 

“I’m not sick. I’m fine,” Steve said, jutting out his chin stubbornly. 

“You have a fever.” 

“It’s just a tiny fever,” Steve countered. 

“A _high_ fever, Steve.”

“Well I—”

But Bucky was not in the mood for excuses. He pointed towards the coffee table where a mug of water and two tablets were waiting. “Take those. It’s fever medication.” 

“I don’t nee—” 

“ _Steve.”_

Steve froze at Bucky’s tone, looking like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment before obediently reaching out for the water and tablets. 

Bucky waited until Steve swallowed both tablets and downed the whole mug of water before giving a nod. “I’ll go get some food for you to eat.”

“You don’t ha—”

Again, Bucky didn’t want to hear it, promptly getting up and heading towards the kitchen. He assembled a simple sandwich, and after a brief hesitation, he cut out a slice of his completed fruit roll cake and added that to the plate as well. 

When he came back out to the lounge room, Steve glanced up nervously, looking exactly like a kicked puppy with the most miserable expression on his face. 

“Uhm… Bucky, are you mad at me?” Steve asked, voice extremely small. 

“No,” Bucky said simply. He wasn’t mad. He was exasperated, a little frustrated, because what would happen if Steve collapsed? Or fell even sicker and ended up in hospital? Or maybe— 

Okay, fine. Bucky was a bit mad. Just a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said very sincerely, and Bucky absolutely did not want to hear that. 

It was the kind of ‘sorry’ that Bucky knew Steve meant in the moment, but if something like this were to happen again, he knew for certain that Steve would do it all over again. It was _Steve_ after all. 

“You should call Sam,” Bucky said instead. “And eat the sandwich.” 

“Sam!” Steve’s eyes widened, reaching out to grab his phone. “Oh no, he’s gonna kill me, isn’t he?” 

Bucky nodded in full agreement and handed over the plate. 

“Thanks, Bucky. You really didn’t have t— Oh, you finished the fruit roll cake! It looks good!” How Steve managed to look both as proud as a mother hen could be and yet ridiculously pitiful and sad at the same time was completely beyond him.

Steve dutifully ate the food and got yelled at by Sam for a few minutes after he finally mustered the courage to call him. Then when he was finally ready to head back, he briefly turned to Bucky with that same kicked puppy expression, looking so utterly crestfallen that it should be considered criminal. 

“Uhm, I’m really sorry about today, Bucky. Truly. If you want a refund or som—”

 _Refund?_ God, that wasn’t even at the bottom of Bucky’s list of concerns. 

Bucky sighed out loud. 

“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” 

Steve nodded, and looked up meekly. “You’re not still mad, are you?” 

“No,” Bucky said, and this time, it was indeed the truth. It was physically near impossible to get mad and _stay_ mad at Steve’s stupid puppy face anyway. “But I don’t want to see you—” Steve’s face instantly fell “—until you’re better again.” 

Steve perked up and nodded agreeably. “Okay. Absolutely! I’ll get better as quickly as I can. Thanks for everything again!” Steve beamed at him, and yeah— 

Now that was the bright smile Bucky was used to seeing.


	8. Chapter 8

A few days later, Bucky decided to head down to Royal Gala Cafe to check on Steve.

The walk there took a record-breaking nineteen minutes—finally going below the twenty minute mark, though Bucky remained tense throughout the whole journey as always, shoulders rolled up taut. 

He took a moment outside the cafe to compose himself as usual, before pushing open the doors and stepping in.

He was greeted by the familiar waft of delicious baked goods, but the counter was empty and Steve was nowhere to be seen. 

Bucky frowned and took a few more steps in. As he neared the counter, he picked up two voices coming from the kitchen—Sam and Steve. 

“—be careful, Steve. You're going to get hurt again." 

“You’re just worrying too much. I’ll be fine.” 

“That's what you said last time too, and remember what happened?” 

“Last time was just a tiny—”

“Tiny? You almost _died._ ”

Bucky instantly went cold. _Steve almost died?_

“But I didn’t _._ Isn’t that the whole point?” 

“It’s bad enough that you nearly did,” Sam said, uncharacteristically sombre. “Look, I want to be supportive and happy for you, I really do, but what you’re doing? It’s _dangerous_.” 

_What were they talking about?_

“I can take care of myself.” 

“I think we both know you’re entirely incapable of doing that.” 

“Sam!" 

Sam snorted once, a teasing lilt returning to his voice. “Look, that pout might work on a certain someone, but it isn’t going to work on me.” 

_Uhm_. 

“It’s not—I’m not pouting!" 

"Yeah, yeah it's—" Sam suddenly appeared at the doorway, doing a double take and waving a little at Bucky. "—oh hi, Bucky!" 

"Buc—" Steve popped out from the doorway, eyes immediately widening upon seeing Bucky there. "H-hi Bucky! You're here! Did you he—uhm, sorry, did you just come in?" 

Bucky nodded, automatically scanning Steve from head to toe. He looked so much better than a few days ago, no longer lethargic or pale and pretty much back to his normal bubbly self again. "Hi Steve, Sam."

"Do you want something to eat? Or drink?" Steve asked, at the same time Sam said, “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it," before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Actually, I came to give you this.” 

Bucky held up a small bag, gently dropping it down onto the counter. 

“What’s that?” 

“Soup,” Bucky said, biting his lip once before adding, “I uhm, made it. Followed a recipe online. It’s supposed to be good to eat when you're sick.” 

“You made soup,” Steve muttered, eyes going even wider. “For _me?_ ” 

Bucky nodded, and Steve just stood there, completely dumbstruck. 

Was this a mistake?

And then Steve slowly started to smile—though this smile was slightly different from his usual sunshine smile. This smile was more… Bucky didn’t have a word for it. Didn’t _want_ to have a word for it. Steve’s cheeks turned slightly red, and he briefly averted his gaze, before looking up with bright eyes. 

“Thank you,” Steve said, and Bucky found himself looking away as well, eyes focusing on anything that wasn’t the pair of blue sparkling eyes in front of him. 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

Steve just made a pleased hum, before letting out a sharp “Oh!” 

Bucky looked up, and Steve beamed at him, cheeks still a faint red. “I didn’t get to thank you properly for the other day too. Do you want a dessert? And a drink? On the house, of course.” 

“Uh…” 

And of course Steve was already up and ready with a plate in hand, staring up with his infallible pleading eyes. Bucky still stood absolutely no chance against that. 

“Just this once,” Bucky sighed, and Steve nodded all too easily. 

“Of course! What do you want?” 

Bucky gave the glass cabinet a look and shrugged. “Whatever you recommend.” 

“Hmm…” Steve looked at the sweets available and then brightened up. “How about an apple pie layer cake? It’s a new creation.” 

“Sure.” 

“What about a drink?” 

“Tea?” 

“Okay! Just give me a minute.” 

Steve prepared everything and brought it out to Bucky’s table, but instead of going back to the counter to doodle like he usually did, he remained standing at the table, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

"What's wrong?" 

“Uhm, I just— Uh…” Steve trailed off, twiddling his thumbs. With a small voice, he asked, “Can I eat with you?” 

A warm feeling bubbled to life inside Bucky, and he nodded.

Steve instantly perked up and went over to the counter to pick up Bucky's soup and a cup of tea. Then he hopped back to the table, pulling out the chair opposite Bucky and settling down. 

“No one has cooked me anything before,” Steve commented as he pulled out the container of soup from the bag. “Ooh, is this minestrone?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Looks good!” Steve took a spoonful and hummed to himself. “It’s really yummy. Thanks for this again!”

Bucky made a non-committal noise and busied himself with the cake.

“Anyway, how have you been? You know, apart from fighting the usual Avengers battles?” 

“Alright,” Bucky said. 

He wasn’t sure what else to tell Steve, and now that he thought about it, he didn’t really do much outside of battles and training. He didn’t have hobbies. He didn’t watch TV or play video games unless Barton pestered him enough. He occasionally spent some time sharpening his knives and taking care of his guns, but that was to ensure he was battle-ready at all times, so did that really count? Well, there was always _baking_ of course, which Steve already knew everything about because he was there for all of Bucky’s incredible fuck-ups, so that didn’t count either. 

Steve seemed to take his one-word answer in stride, easily moving on to talk about his latest attempt at creating a new apple dessert recipe. Something about experimenting with jelly and mochi desserts.

Steve’s eyes were sparkling throughout as he talked, and it was all too easy to get invested in whatever he was talking about even if Bucky didn’t understand most of it. Steve had that effect on people, he supposed. 

Steve eventually moved on to talk about a whole bunch of other topics—from art to gardening to _engineering_ of all things, and Bucky continued listening, nodding at certain intervals. He barely contributed to the conversation, but Steve didn’t seem to mind, more than happy to talk enough for the both of them.

Before he knew it, Sam was standing at their table with one of those shit-eating grins Bucky was used to seeing from either Barton or Stark. 

“Hate to break this off boys, but it’s almost time to close.” 

“Time to close? But it’s only—” Steve glanced down at his watch. “— _oh my god!_ It’s this late?!” 

“Yupp,” Sam said with a popping sound at the end. “Time just flies when you’re having _fun_ , right, Steve?” 

Steve blushed and glared up at Sam.

“Shut up,” he mumbled before getting up and giving Bucky a sheepish grin. “Ah, I’m sorry Bucky. We can uhm, talk more some other time? I’ll still see you on Saturday, yeah?” 

Bucky nodded. “Sorry I took all your time. I can help you close up?” 

“Oh no, you don’t have to. It’s my fault for not keeping track of the time anyway. Besides, you’re a customer, I can’t let you—” 

Bucky got up anyway and turned to Sam. “I can help sweep the floor.” 

“Stuff’s in the back,” Sam said with a huge grin, fully on board with all of this. 

“Bucky, no, you really don’t hav—” 

Bucky made a quick escape past the counter and down into the back as Sam had directed. 

“ _BUCKY!_ Come back!!” 

\----------

Things quickly returned to normal. 

The unicorn was back to its usual healthy, sparkly self at the next battle, and the Avengers were quick to shower it with tons of food and pets (and also to berate it for being overly reckless). Bucky didn’t partake in it all, of course, but the next time he went up to check the rooftop garden, the apple he’d left there had disappeared. 

The baking lessons also continued as usual. 

Bucky was still an unbearable fuck-up when it came to baking, and Steve was still the most patient baking teacher ever, laughing off all of Bucky’s mistakes and gently guiding him on how to do everything correctly.

Soon enough, weeks flew by and it was already the end of the second last baking lesson. Just one last lesson to go. 

“Hope you’re excited for the last lesson. It’s gonna be a special one. We’ll be making a unicorn cake!” Steve exclaimed. 

“Unicorn cake?” 

“Yeah, it’s a really adorable cake!” Steve exclaimed. “I can show you what it looks like, just give me a minute.” 

Steve pulled out his phone and scrolled through for a moment before turning it over to show Bucky an image of the completed unicorn cake. “Here!” 

The unicorn cake was shaped like any ordinary layer cake, with an ice cream cone for a horn, white chocolate triangles for ears, black frosting for the eyes, and to top it off, multi-colored frosting all over the top and cascading down the sides to represent the mane. 

Okay, Bucky had to admit, it was kinda adorable. 

“It’s pretty easy to do, and it actually uses all the skills you’ve learnt from all the past lessons, so it’s a great recipe to end off with.” 

“Why a unicorn?” Bucky asked curiously. 

“Uhm, because unicorns are cute? Everyone likes unicorns?” Steve shrugged. “Well, I just thought it was a fun idea. Oh! Speaking of which, isn’t there an actual real life unicorn that pops up sometimes at the Avengers battles? Sam and I see it on TV sometimes.” 

“Yeah.”

“Have you uhm, met it?” 

“Not… really.” 

“Why not?” 

“It probably hates me.” 

“Hate you?” Steve squeaked out, looking utterly taken aback. “Why would it hate you?” 

“Because…” Bucky trailed off. _Because it’s me, and I’m a trash human being?_ He could already imagine how Steve was going to respond to that. “Because… it’s a _unicorn.”_

It was a stupid answer, but Steve definitely heard what Bucky _wasn’t_ saying, and he went quiet, all of a sudden looking a little… sad. 

“If the unicorn hates you, then it must be a really lousy, stupid animal, because you’re a good person,” Steve declared, smiling brightly before adding more shyly, “One of the bravest people I’ve ever met.” 

Bucky's throat closed up at that, and he swallowed a few times. 

What was he even supposed to say to that? 

Steve always sounded like he meant everything he said, like every word was just plain fact carved in stone, and well— 

It was practically impossible to stop a small part of him from lighting up, because maybe, just _maybe,_ what if a tiny bit of what Steve said was actually true? 

In the end, he just gave a non-committal sound, shrugging once. 

“You’re a good person, Bucky. Honestly,” Steve repeated again with that signature all too sincere expression, and what else could Bucky have responded with other than to nod and agree? 

\----------

It was probably fate, but that very night when Bucky was out in the rooftop garden seeking refuge from the usual string of nightmares, the ridiculous unicorn was already waiting there, standing under the apple tree looking perfect as always, golden mane and tail fluttering in the wind. 

The unicorn was just as surprised to see him, flicking its ears forward and snorting once. 

“Hi.” 

The unicorn nickered softly, as if to return his greeting, and when it showed no signs of potentially charging up to Bucky and kicking him off the rooftop, Bucky went to his little corner under the plum tree, tucking his hands into his hoodie pockets and settling down. 

The unicorn didn’t pay him much attention, trotting around to investigate every corner of the garden.

It probably looked a little different from the last time Bucky saw the unicorn here. There were more succulents and cacti around, more ugly ferns, even a large collection of flowers and herbs that Pepper insisted on adding.

The unicorn definitely noticed the changes, sniffing and nosing around curiously, occasionally pawing at the plants with a single hoof, though it was careful not to damage any of them. It was also keeping a safe distance away from Bucky, which honestly suited him just fine, and Bucky started to close his eyes, breathing in and out deeply in an attempt to relax himself. 

A few minutes passed, and then a rustle nearby immediately made Bucky’s eyes snap open. 

The unicorn was standing in front of the plum tree with a determined look on its face, eyes focused on the tree. Its horn started to glow, and just like the last time, the plum tree started to glow as well, branches and leaves sprouting out. A few seconds later, a fully ripe plum detached itself from a branch and dropped right into Bucky’s palm. 

Bucky stared at it and glanced up at the unicorn, who was looking at him expectantly, tail swishing back and forth like an eager dog. 

“Uhm, thanks.”

The unicorn perked up, making a soft noise of approval before trotting back to the center of the garden, probably getting ready to perform its vanishing act once again. 

Before Bucky could talk himself out of it, he said, “Wait.” 

The unicorn turned back, tilting its head slightly as if to say, “What?” 

Bucky pulled out a knife from one of his pockets—because what sort of legendary Winter Soldier would he be if he didn’t have at least one knife on him at all times—and made a quick slice across the plum, halving it. He quickly cut out the seed, tossing it aside, and then got up very slowly, balancing the plum half on his right palm and offering it out. This was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done. 

The unicorn stared for a moment, contemplating, and then started to inch forward, eyes carefully watching Bucky. 

A few more steps, and Bucky started to feel the warm breath of the unicorn against his face, hear his own heart roaring in his ears. He held his breath, not daring to move an inch. 

And then—

Gently, so gently that Bucky barely felt it, the unicorn plucked the plum out from Bucky’s hand, munching it down with a happy snort. 

Bucky peeked up, and the unicorn gave another snort, blowing out into Bucky’s hand briefly and then—

_Nuzzling_ his hand a little. 

Bucky instantly froze at the sudden brush of soft fur against his hand. Warm, and so much softer than he’d imagined. 

The unicorn looked up at him with bright soulful eyes—which strangely reminded Bucky of Steve for a moment there—and then nosed at Bucky’s hand again, trying to get his hand over its snout. 

Bucky let the unicorn push his hand around, until his hand came to a rest on top of the unicorn’s snout, fingers barely touching the tips of the unicorn’s fur.

The unicorn blinked at him and waited, but Bucky still didn’t move. The unicorn snorted once more, firmly pressing its snout up into Bucky’s hand and doing that nuzzling motion again. 

So _soft_. 

Bucky’s fingers finally twitched and came back to life, giving a tentative stroke down the unicorn’s snout. 

The unicorn didn’t pull away, and Bucky gave a second stroke, this time brushing his fingers down the side of the unicorn’s face. It immediately leaned into his touch, letting out an almost purring noise, so Bucky did it again, and again. 

The petting continued for a few more minutes, and that tight ball of tension inside Bucky gradually unravelled, thread by thread, slowly melting away. 

God, the unicorn didn’t hate him. It _liked_ him. 

“Here,” Bucky said, picking up the other plum half and offering it out. 

The unicorn sniffed it and withdrew back with a snort, bending down and nudging Bucky’s hand from underneath, trying to push Bucky’s hand back to himself. 

“You want… me to eat it?” 

The unicorn made a noise, pushing insistently on his hand. 

Who was Bucky to argue with a goddamn unicorn? 

He eventually relented, bringing the plum up to his mouth and taking a small bite just to appease the creature.

The plum was sweet, juicy, with just the right amount of sourness. Within a few more bites, the plum was gone, and the unicorn let out a satisfied little snuffle, prodding at Bucky’s hand to demand for more pets. 

Again, Bucky obliged, stroking the unicorn’s chin and commenting, “You’re kind of like a cat.” The noise the unicorn made in response to that was most definitely a displeased one, and Bucky felt his lips twitch upwards. “A giant cat.” 

The unicorn turned a little, seemingly to glare at Bucky, but quickly relaxed when Bucky started rubbing at a spot behind its ears. Its eyes slid shut in bliss, and it started making that almost purring noise again. 

Yupp, definitely a giant cat. 

\----------

At the next Avengers battle, the unicorn came right up to him to demand pets, prodding at him insistently and blowing out warm air into his face. Bucky obliged, because how could he _not,_ and all the other Avengers basically stopped and stared.

“Hey, when did Frosty become BFFs with the unicorn? He didn’t even bring treats or anything!” Stark exclaimed. 

“Aw, horsey,” Barton grumbled. 

“It’s kinda sweet,” Natasha commented, shrugging her shoulders. 

The unicorn didn’t pay any attention to the ruckus, thoroughly enjoying all the attention it was getting from Bucky. 

“You’re weird,” Bucky told it. 

The unicorn seemed to take that as a compliment, snorting once and pressing into Bucky’s touch, shutting its eyes. 

Bucky couldn’t help but smile a little at that. 

Just a little. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.


	9. Chapter 9

Saturday eventually came, and it was finally time for Bucky’s last baking session with Steve. 

“Excited for today?” 

Bucky shrugged, and Steve grinned at him. 

“Since it’s the last lesson today, I thought we could change things up a little,” Steve said, looking up at him. “I was actually thinking that we could go out and get the ingredients ourselves today.”

Bucky’s heart did a little jump. 

Go… _out?_

“Buying and choosing ingredients is an important part of baking too, and there are a huge variety of seasonal fruits and produce to explore, so I thought it might be fun for you to choose whatever ingredients you want to use today.”

Bucky continued blinking at Steve, not saying a word, and Steve added,

“There’s this grocery shop nearby that we can go to. It always has tons of fresh produce for sale, and plus, it’s not too crowded either.” Steve paused. “But of course, if you don’t want to, I totally understand. I just thought it might be nice, for a change.”

Bucky hesitated.

“How far is it?”

“Uhm, just about twenty minutes? Not that far.”

Bucky paused some more. Just thinking of the number of people, the stares, the danger—always the danger, danger everywhere—got his heart to start racing once again.

“Hey, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve reassured.

“I…” Bucky swallowed. “ _Want_ to.”

And it was the truth. He did want to. _Of course_ he wanted to. Why wouldn’t he want to be just like everyone else, to enjoy café hopping like Barton or Natasha, or even simply exploring Midgard like Thor?

It would be nice to go out like a regular, normal person again— _l_ _ive_ like a regular, normal person. 

“You sure?” Steve asked, bright blue eyes filled with concern.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s go.”

Steve beamed at him. 

“Okay! But if you want to go back at any time, just let me know, alright?” 

\----------

The journey there was surprisingly a lot less painful than Bucky imagined. 

His senses were still all turned to overdrive, focusing on every detail in the vicinity, but Steve was there right beside him throughout it all, chattering about mindless topics and trying to distract him from everything happening around him. 

“Ooh, and here’s a shortcut to this pond I like to visit. There are a bunch of ducks there,” Steve said, tugging on Bucky’s sleeve to draw his attention to a narrow pathway down to the left. 

“Ducks?” Bucky asked, immediately tensing up as a group of kids darted past him, bumping into his knees and giggling. _Not a threat_ , he firmly told himself. 

“Yupp! Seriously adorable ducks. Maybe they’ll have ducklings soon, who knows?” 

“Right. Ducklings,” Bucky said absentmindedly, eyes now flickering on a shadow nearby that—no, that was a _tree._ Again, not a threat. 

Steve moved on to talk more about ducks, and then switched to talk about their distant regal cousins, the swans, before suddenly jumping to talk about Swan Lake. 

“—the story. What do you think, Bucky?” 

Bucky blinked, immediately tearing his eyes off a young couple down the street walking their dog. Low threat level. Uh, what? 

Steve barely batted an eye at Bucky's blank look. 

“I was just saying that I never really enjoyed the story of Swan Lake. Not sure why. Guess it never really resonated with me. What do you think?” 

“Oh. I uhm, don’t know.” 

“You’ve never heard the story?” 

Bucky shook his head, and Steve smiled, launching into storytelling mode and explaining the plot of Swan Lake to him, characters, setting, everything. 

It definitely helped, having something else to focus on rather than being hyper aware of his surroundings and the people around him, and Bucky let himself get lost in the story, listening to Steve drone on and on around Swan Lake. 

Another few minutes of walking, and Steve offered to take a break. 

"Wanna get something to drink and rest for a while?"

Bucky shook his head. 

"Okay," Steve said with an encouraging smile. "We're almost there!" 

Bucky made himself take a deep breath, nodding once at Steve. 

He could do this. Just a little more. 

\----------

Approximately half an hour later, they finally arrived at the grocery shop. 

It was definitely much smaller than the usual grocery shops—less crowded too, true to Steve’s word—but it still had enough people wandering around inside that it made Bucky’s skin start crawling all over, eyes darting left and right constantly to catalogue every potential threat in sight. Camera layout, escape routes, potential weapons—Bucky's eyes fell onto the set of round watermelons neatly stacked at the back. Not as lethal as perhaps a knife, but if thrown at the right angle and speed, it could definitely deal some serious damage. 

"Any idea on what kind of cake you want to make?" Steve asked, snapping Bucky out from his thoughts.

Bucky shook his head. 

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure some inspiration will come to you soon. Come on, let's go look at the fruits first!" 

Bucky picked up an empty basket from the front and followed Steve down the long row of glistening fruits, inspecting every available option.

Bananas. Pineapples. Citrus fruits. Berries—strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, even mulberries. 

"Berries are a classic. Always fun to use in baking," Steve explained, "Good in pies, but they're really delicious in cakes too. How about that?" 

Bucky thought about it, and ultimately shook his head. 

They moved on to the apple section, where Steve practically had a full meltdown just looking at all the varieties of apples available.

"Oh my god, they have so many different kinds and colours and—wait, are those… _yellow apples?!"_

Steve gasped and immediately bounded over to the crate of yellow apples, cradling one in his hands and holding it up as if it was a precious, fragile baby. 

Bucky couldn't help but snort. Only Steve would get this excited over the sight of an _apple._

“Ah, it looks so pretty! And juicy too,” Steve murmured, practically shooting heart eyes at the piece of fruit. “Wonder how it tastes like.” 

Bucky snorted again. “Buy it.”

“Huh?” Steve snapped up. “No way. We came here to get ingredients for _you_ , not me.” 

As if to prove some point, Steve put the apple back down, resolutely taking a few steps away from the crate of yellow apples like he was suddenly deathly allergic to them.

Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes, walking up to the crate and picking up an apple to put into the basket. 

“I’ll buy it then.” 

“What. No, Bucky, you don’t have to.” 

Of course, Bucky ignored him, promptly moving on from the fruits. 

"Bucky, wait!" Steve protested—mostly for the sake of it—and quickly scurried after him.

They explored the other aisles of the store, getting the basic ingredients like flour, eggs and butter, but Bucky had still yet to decide on the main cake flavour, much less the frosting flavour.

Steve wasn't bothered by it in the slightest, seemingly more than happy to remain inside the grocery store for as long as it took until inspiration struck. 

They wandered the shop for a few more minutes, until they finally reached the chocolate section. 

Cocoa powder, chocolate bars, chocolate couverture… Bucky had no idea there were so many forms of chocolate products available, let alone _types_ of chocolate. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, and—

Pink… chocolate? 

“Hey, they have ruby chocolate!” Steve said, picking up a bar and holding it up for Bucky to see. "They process the cocoa beans a little differently. That's why it's pink." 

"Huh." 

"It's supposed to taste a little fruity, but I've never tried it personally." 

Bucky picked up a bar and took a closer look at it. It looked like any ordinary chocolate bar - but pink. Pretty odd, but interesting. 

He dropped the bar into his basket, and Steve grinned at him. 

“Got inspiration?” 

“Kind of.” 

Steve’s smile widened, and he picked out a few more different bars—a mix of white chocolate, dark chocolate of different percentages and milk chocolate, dumping them into the basket. 

“Just in case you need them,” he said. 

They moved on to get the other ingredients, and when they passed by the snack section, Bucky paused for a minute before picking up a box of strawberry pop-tarts and throwing it into the basket. Thor would probably like that. 

He picked out some potato chips for Barton and dropped it into the basket—crinkle cut, because that was supposedly the only ‘proper potato chip’ that he liked to eat. Bucky got some sour worms for Natasha, a box of freeze-dried fruit for Stark (because Pepper would murder him if he gave Stark any unhealthy snacks), and as for Banner…

“Bruce would probably like this,” Steve said kindly, gesturing towards a box of healthy wholemeal cookies tucked away in the corner.

Bucky blinked. Yeah, those were definitely something Banner would eat. 

“Thanks," he said, picking up the box of cookies and adding that to the basket. 

Steve smiled up at him. "Ready to pay?" 

Bucky nodded, and they made their way to the cashier. 

Five minutes later, they were out of the store with multiple bags in hand. Steve insisted on helping him carry the bags, refusing to take no for an answer, and eventually, after much pestering and puppy-dog eyes, Bucky relented and gave him the lightest bag to carry.

They started the long journey back, with Steve happily carrying the bag and rambling about whatever was on his mind while Bucky did his best to keep calm and relax, taking step by step down the street. 

Just a little more, and he would be safely back at the tower. 

A few minutes later, they passed by that same pathway Steve had pointed out earlier—the shortcut to the lake with the supposedly adorable ducks. 

Steve was still talking, something about his latest art project and using watercolours, but Bucky didn’t miss the way he slightly tilted his head to the side, glancing down the pathway for a brief second before looking back straight again. 

Bucky immediately stopped in his tracks.

“Bucky? Is something wrong?” 

Honestly, the sheer amount of concern radiating from Steve should be outlawed and permanently banned from existence.

Bucky shook his head, turning to face the pathway and then shooting Steve a questioning look. Steve’s eyes widened slightly and he flashed a shy smile. 

“Uhm, we don’t have to. You probably want to get back to the tower as soon as you can, right?” 

“It’s fine.”

Steve considered him for a moment before nodding. 

“Okay, let’s take a short break at the lake. I can introduce you to the ducks.” 

Bucky paused.

_Introduce?_

_\----------_

The ducks, as it turned out, had _names_ , because of course Steve was the type of person to name random wild animals living at the nearby lake. What did Bucky expect, honestly? 

“That one’s Ralph,” Steve said, pointing towards one of the ducks which—in Bucky’s honest opinion—looked virtually indistinguishable from the other duck swimming nearby apparently named Kent. 

“That one’s Kiki,” Steve continued, pointing at yet another similar looking duck towards the back. “And beside Kiki is Coco.” 

“What’s with the names?” Or more accurately, _why_ did they have names? 

“Oh, I named Ralph and Kent, and Sam named Kiki and Coco,” Steve said simply, as if that explained everything. “But well, I don’t actually know any of their genders. They could be named completely wrong.” 

Steve dropped his bag down onto a nearby bench and hopped closer to the edge of the water, settling down on the grass and beckoning for Bucky to come over. Bucky followed suit, putting the bags down and walking over, though he remained standing at the side instead of sitting. 

The lake wasn’t huge, more like a pond than anything else, and the pathways encircling it weren’t as well maintained as the busier streets elsewhere, with blades of grass peeking out through the cracks and covering the dull grey concrete paths with a blanket of vibrant green. Maybe that was what added to the appeal in the first place. The place had a sort of serene vibe to it—a bit like the rooftop garden. 

The ducks were happily swimming about in their little sanctuary, occasionally diving into the water and coming back up again. One of the ducks—was it Ralph?—let out a loud triumphant honk, ducking its head down into the water and surfacing. 

“Quack quack!” Steve said back, giggling like a little child. 

The duck turned to stare at him incredulously—if ducks could even look incredulous, and that only made Steve burst out laughing.

“QUACK!” Steve shouted.

The startled duck honked back, and Steve laughed even harder. 

Bucky snorted, lips tilting upwards. Did Steve have any idea what he looked like, quacking at a duck to see if it honked back?

Steve jerked around to face him, narrowing his eyes and doing that pouty thing with his lips. His very pink lips. 

“Did you just laugh at me??” 

Bucky schooled his expression into the usual blank face. 

“No.” 

“You did!” 

“Nope.” 

“Hmph!” Steve huffed, crossing his arms and stubbornly facing away from Bucky like a little pouty hamster. 

At that moment, one of the ducks let out a very timely loud honk.

A pause. 

“Not going to quack back?” 

Steve flushed red. 

“You’re such a jerk!” 

Steve got back up on his feet, probably to stomp away in his little tantrum and—

“Woah!” Steve lost his balance and stumbled forward. 

Bucky instantly reached out to catch him. His fingers wrapped around Steve’s slender elbow to support him and— 

One of Steve’s hands collided into Bucky’s chest, a solid, warm pressure against the center of his ribcage, perfectly positioned right over his beating heart. 

Bucky froze. Steve froze. 

Steve’s eyes were the exact shade of the morning sky above, a bright blue, but glazed with a light coat of amber from the sun with small specks of turquoise—almost green—melded in. Bucky had never noticed that before, much less paid attention to the long eyelashes framing his eyes, or the way his nose was slightly crooked to the left, or even his lips—a pale, glistening pink. 

Steve started to turn very red, a full-blown red spreading all the way down his neck.

“Ah, s-sorry!”

Steve made that panicked ‘meep’ sound and instantly withdrew, jumping aside for good measure. 

“I’m really sorry! That was an accident!!” 

It took awhile for Bucky to unclog his throat, and he shook his head, saying, “It’s okay.” 

“We— we should probably head back. Still have that unicorn cake to bake, y-yeah?” 

Bucky nodded, going back to the bench to pick up the bags of ingredients. 

Before they left, Bucky asked, “Not going to say bye to the ducks?” 

Steve gave him a look.

“God, you’re really such a jerk!” 

\----------

When they returned to the tower, they quickly unpacked everything. Bucky set aside all the snacks he bought for the other Avengers and laid out all the ingredients and equipment on the kitchen counter, finally ready to start making the unicorn cake. 

After going through all the ingredients, he ultimately decided to bake a dark chocolate cake with ruby chocolate frosting. With Steve’s help, he started mixing up the basic chocolate cake batter. 

Things went a lot more smoothly than Bucky expected. 

He didn’t mix up baking powder with baking soda, he melted his chocolate correctly with a double boiler, and he didn’t even get a single scrap of eggshell into his bowl while cracking the eggs. 

“You’re doing great, Bucky!” Steve cheered from the side, looking positively proud and ecstatic. 

Eventually, the cake batter was deposited into the oven to bake, and Bucky got started on making the frosting and decorations. 

He chopped up the ruby chocolate and carefully melted it, whisking it into the basic buttercream mixture. 

“Guess the unicorn’s going to be a bit pinkish, huh?” Steve remarked, peering over and staring at the pale pink frosting. “Looks good though.” 

Bucky made a non-committal noise.

“Anyway, for the mane, you can split the frosting into different bowls and colour them different colours,” Steve said, holding up a box of food colouring. "What colours do you want?" 

Bucky thought about it, but the image of a rainbow-maned unicorn—even as a cartoon cake—just seemed… off somehow. 

Now that he knew what an actual real life unicorn looked like, _felt_ like, there was really no going back from that. 

Bucky picked out the yellow and blue food colouring from the box, and Steve tilted his head curiously to the side. 

"That's all you're going to use?" 

Bucky nodded. 

"Uhm, okay. It's your choice." 

Bucky put the majority of the frosting in the biggest bowl, then split the rest into two other bowls, one with only a few spoonfuls of frosting. He mixed yellow into one bowl for the mane, and blue into the smallest bowl for the eyes, taking care to mix the right shade of blue. 

Once that was all done, he started on the chocolate ears, using white chocolate for the outer ear and ruby chocolate for the inner ear. 

Steve continuously guided him throughout, though he mostly had a hands-off approach, letting Bucky do everything by himself. 

Soon enough, the cakes were done and cooled, and it was finally time to assemble it. 

"It's frosting time!" Steve said, a teasing glint appearing in his eyes as he waved a piping bag at Bucky. “Your _favourite_ time!”

Bucky instinctively scowled and suppressed a groan. His mortal enemy. The cause of countless frosting disasters from previous lessons. 

"Come on, it'll be fine!" 

Yeah, no, the piping bag was not something to be trifled with. 

Steve just grinned brightly and offered out the bag, shaking it a few times just to prove that it was harmless. 

Bucky took the bag, being careful not to put excessive pressure on it. This thing could be like a live grenade sometimes.

He started off by layering the cakes, putting a generous amount of his ruby chocolate frosting between the layers and smoothing everything out to make it level. 

Once that was done, Bucky lathered on even more frosting all over the top and sides, doing his best to keep the frosting _on_ the cake and not on the table or floor (or ceiling—but that was just that one time). He moved on to the bag of yellow frosting to create the unicorn’s mane, using different piping tips to create stars, rosettes and swirls of different sizes. Then he added the ears, the horn and piped the eyes (though one eye was noticeably more crooked). Finally, as the finishing touch, Steve offered him some edible gold glitter to sprinkle over the top. 

And with that, the unicorn cake was completed. 

“It looks really good! I’m so proud of you!!” Steve gushed, looking at the cake from all angles as if it was some magnificent piece at an art gallery. 

Steve snapped some pictures of it, pestering Bucky to get in and take a shot with the cake as well to which he eventually agreed to. 

After the lengthy photo taking session, it was at last time to cut and eat the cake. It was a bit of a shame to cut the cake that Bucky so painstakingly layered and decorated, but that was the whole point of it, right? 

He gave a generous slice to Steve and cut one for himself, eagerly digging in. 

It was a rich chocolate cake, but not so rich that it overpowered the milder ruby chocolate frosting, which added a nice fruity touch to the whole creation. It certainly didn’t taste as complex or as perfect as Steve’s other masterful creations, but it was still a pretty damn good cake, and Bucky wolfed it down within a few bites, scraping off every bit of frosting from the plate and licking it off the fork. 

Steve kept praising the cake while he ate it, everything from the cake flavour to the frosting flavour, and even to the slipshod frosting job that basically screamed _amateur._ Within a few minutes, he too finished the cake slice. 

Once that was done, Bucky started clearing the dishes, while Steve went over to pack up his things. 

Usually, Steve would be chattering non-stop during this time, regardless of whether Bucky was actually paying attention, but today, he was unusually quiet, saying a few words here and there but otherwise remaining silent. It was probably a little bittersweet, reaching the end of the whole baking journey after so many weeks, and it would be a lie if Bucky said he didn’t feel a tiny bit sad as well, because despite all his disasters and failings, baking with Steve had been, well—simply put— _fun._

When Steve was finally all packed up and ready to go, he paused at the elevator door for a few long seconds before turning around to face Bucky. 

“Uhm, Bucky?” 

Bucky looked up. 

“I uhm, so, I guess that’s the end of the lessons.” 

“Right.” 

“Was it— Did you have fun?” 

Bucky nodded, and Steve brightened up. 

“That’s great! That’s the most important part. Apart from the, uh, baking of course. Fun is still the most important.” 

Steve started twiddling his thumbs, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Bucky frowned. What was up with him? 

“Anyway, I was just wondering…” Steve trailed off, catching Bucky’s gaze for a second and immediately looking away again. “I just— Uhm, now that there’s no more baking sessions anymore, I uh...” 

Bucky waited. 

Steve visibly took a deep breath in before glancing back up at him. 

Blue eyes firm, but surrounded by an edge of softness. 

“I like you,” Steve finally blurted out, and Bucky stilled. 

Wha—

“I _really_ like you,” Steve repeated, cheeks starting to flood with red. “You’re just amazing. So incredible and brave and I uhm, I just really like you.” 

There was a rush of emotion, and Bucky could only stand there dumbly and let that sink in. Steve liked him. _Liked_ him. 

“I uhm, wanted to tell you a lot earlier when you started coming to the cafe, but then we started having those baking lessons and there wasn’t really a good time to tell you then, so now that it’s all over…” Steve trailed off again, taking another deep breath. “Will you go out on a date with me?” 

Bucky’s heart did a huge flip flop. 

Part of him wanted to burst open and jump around, but then there was that other part of him that instantly plummeted, feeling like a thick tree branch that just snapped into two, because— 

The bubble had finally popped. 

It had been nice while it lasted, being with Steve, and now Bucky just hit the inevitable crossroad he always knew he was heading towards, like an impending train crash, barrelling straight into a wall. 

It was selfish of him to want more, but how could he _not,_ when Steve was just pure solid sunshine and Bucky was everything but that? And now—

“Before you say _no,_ ” Steve hurriedly said, making Bucky flinch. “I hope you’ll think about it. I mean, _really_ think about it. I did a lot of thinking myself, considered a lot of things, and I still really want to try, so if—” and Steve swallowed, voice going very small. “—if you say no then, then I’ll accept that. But you have to think about it.” 

Bucky swallowed as well. "Okay." 

“Alright then. Uhm, well, you can come by the cafe anytime. Or call. Or I guess text. Whatever works for you.” 

Bucky nodded, and Steve flashed a small smile, waving a little and seemingly back to his usual cheerful self. 

“Hope to see you soon, Bucky!” 

And then Steve disappeared into the elevator, doors sliding shut. 

Bucky remained standing on the spot, swallowing a couple more times. 

What the hell was he supposed to do now? 

\----------

Bucky was in a dilemma. 

It had already been a couple of days, but he still had no idea what to do. There was nobody around to ask for advice from—or at least, Bucky didn’t want to. Natasha was obviously biased, Stark and Barton were likely to laugh at him, and Banner and Thor probably weren’t the best people to ask about this kind of thing in the first place. 

Steve _liked_ him, liked him enough to ask him out, and Bucky was— 

Well, for one, he was a disaster human being, and he could go on and on endlessly about the multitude of reasons why being with Bucky was a bad idea (though his therapist would definitely shake her head and frown at his self-deprecating spiral). 

First of all, Bucky was a straight-up murderer. He had blood on his hands— _innocent_ blood, enough to make an ocean out of it, and Steve was pure, so pure that Bucky couldn’t stand the thought of him ever tainting Steve. 

Bucky was also dangerous. He knew more than a hundred ways to end someone’s life without ever using a weapon. He was a legendary assassin with many enemies, extraterrestrial or not, and even though he worked as an Avenger these days fighting the bad guys, his entire life—his whole purpose—still revolved around violence. That wasn't something Steve needed in his life. Simply associating with him would make Steve a target, and Bucky would never forgive himself if Steve ever got hurt because of him. 

Plus— 

Bucky’s insides twisted a little.

Steve didn’t have the strongest constitution to begin with—whatever that meant. Bucky didn’t really know the details of it all (he wouldn’t pry, not unless Steve told Bucky about it himself), but what he heard that day at the cafe when he unintentionally eavesdropped on Sam and Steve had confirmed more than enough. Steve certainly wouldn’t admit it himself, but he was still smaller, more fragile, more _breakable_ than most people, and Bucky would definitely rather put a bullet through his own head than to have to find out firsthand just where Steve’s limits extended to before his tiny body just gave up on him. Someone Steve’s size could only take so much stress before it fell apart, and Bucky’s whole life was _entirely_ filled with stress. Again, Steve didn’t need that. 

More and more reasons started springing up, from mundane things like ‘Bucky drank straight from the milk carton because he didn’t care for the existence of mugs’, to more legitimate reasons like ‘Bucky was terrible at communication and being in a relationship would just spell disaster for both parties involved’. 

But in the end, it was easy to come to a final conclusion, one Bucky already knew was inevitable from the very beginning when he first laid eyes upon Steve. 

The fact was: a relationship with Steve just wouldn’t work out. It wouldn’t be healthy or balanced. It would just end in heartbreak for the both of them. 

Bucky _knew_ that. He knew all of that, could recite it all from memory, and yet, it was simply impossible to stem that bright blooming spark inside his heart. 

What if all those things Bucky mentioned were just obstacles that he needed to overcome? 

What if instead of running away, he actually stood his ground and faced all these issues head on?

What if he decided to be brave for once and take back all the things Hydra stole from him? 

What if things ended up _working out?_

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Going out on dates with Steve. Doing date things. Being an actual human being with a real life and real relationships. 

God, the mere thought was just too good to be true. 

Impossible.

And yet—

_Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about it._


	10. Chapter 10

Before Bucky could even make a decision, let alone talk to Steve about it, the Avengers were called out to save the world yet again. 

“What foul creature has invaded Midgard today?” Thor asked, idly swinging Mjolnir as he boarded the quinjet. 

“Not aliens, or even robots, if you can believe it,” Stark said. “The main course on the menu today is—” 

A holographic screen popped up in front of them. 

“Spirit worms!” 

“Err… _spirit?_ ” 

“Okay, maybe more of spirit-alien worms? The classification is a bit in the grey zone there.” 

Bucky stared in disbelief at the screen, which showed an army of translucent legless and eyeless worms rampaging in the city and wrecking havoc. They definitely looked like some sort of unholy offspring between a spirit and an alien—somehow having both a ghostly and extraterrestrial vibe to it. The worms writhed and swam about on the screen, occasionally rearing back and— _oh,_ of course they would be equipped with mouthfuls of serrated teeth, rows and rows of it. What sort of monster would it be if it didn’t have any teeth? 

“Do weapons even affect them?” Natasha asked, entirely unfazed and already thinking of the best way to eradicate the threat. 

“Latest reports from the cops at the scene confirm that yes, weapons do penetrate them.” 

“Well, that’s all that really matters." 

"Being killable is definitely a bonus,” Stark agreed. “Anyway, back to more important business. Bets on who takes out the most worms?" 

"Not counting missiles and you're on," Barton instantly said, raising a hand. 

Stark grinned. "You're on, birdbrain." 

\----------

Fifteen minutes later, they finally reached their destination. 

Thor and Stark took to the air, quickly engaging a horde of squirmy ghost aliens up in the sky. 

Thor used a combination of hammer swings and lightning strikes to keep the worms at bay while Stark used his missiles and repulsor blasts to easily fry the worms to crisp. 

On the ground, Hulk was just across the street, evidently having the absolute time of his life bashing the spirit aliens to pulp as he always did. 

That left Bucky with Barton and Natasha—the unfortunate flightless assassin trio always grouped together.

“Yikes, these things look fucking vicious,” Barton commented, loading up an arrow on his trusty bow. It hit bullseye into the spirit alien worm, before promptly exploding and turning the other worms in the vicinity into translucent mush. 

“As bad as those glowy snake-things last month?” Natasha asked, shooting one alien in the head and electrifying another with her gauntlets. 

“That remains undecided,” Barton said and shot another explosive arrow that took care of the incoming batch of worms. 

Bucky took care of a few worms himself with a couple well-placed shots, going back to back with Natasha as they quickly dispatched the next wave of spirit aliens.

Right at that moment, an alien worm came pouncing in from behind, firmly latching onto Barton’s arm with its teeth. 

“Fucking— _FUCK!”_

Barton gritted his teeth, quickly slicing the worm off with a knife. But the damage was already done, and there was now a fresh bite wound right at his bicep, blood freely gushing out. 

“Okay, I changed my mind. These fucking things are _worse_ than the glowy snake-things. At least the snakes had the decency to have only _two_ sharp fangs, not a fucking hundred thousand like these stupid worms!!” 

Natasha snorted, but briefly cast an eye towards the bite wound just to make sure it wasn’t actually a serious injury.

Then an unearthly screech came at Bucky’s left side. He instantly jerked around, raising his metal arm. 

The creature bounced off harmlessly with another screech, unable to latch on. 

Tough luck—his arm was fully constructed from vibranium. 

“Aw, that’s so unfair,” Barton grumbled, before scrunching up his eyebrows. “Wait. These things aren’t poisonous, are they?” 

“JARVIS analysed them and they’re probably harmless. A bit like a leech. Their saliva has anti-coagulative properties so you might bleed a little more than usual, but otherwise, they’re pretty much harmless,” Stark piped up after a beep. “And also, it’s _venomous,_ not _poisonous_.” 

“So… basically the same thing.” 

“They’re different, birdbrain. Haven’t studied basic biology?” 

“They’re the _same_ ,” Barton groaned. “Come on Nat, Bucky, back me up here. They’re the same goddamn thing!” 

Bucky remained silent while Natasha sighed. 

“Tony’s right. They’re different things. Now cut the chatter.” 

“Hah!” 

_“Urgh!!_ I hate you! _”_

“So a biology textbook for Christmas? JARVIS, make note of that—oh wait, is high school too advanced for you? Maybe elementary school?” 

“Screw you, Stark!” 

“Elementary school it is," Stark concluded cheerfully. "And also, just saying, but I'm fourteen worms ahead of you—minus missiles. You've got some serious catching up to do!"

Barton let out an enraged scream—not quite unlike the alien worms they were fighting against. He viciously used an arrow to skewer three worms in one go, but not before one of the worms managed to take a huge gouge out of his forearm, quickly soaking his whole glove with blood. 

“ _FUCK!”_

\----------

Things were going smoothly—relatively smooth if Bucky didn’t count the bite wounds now riddled all over his arm and legs, though all of them were actually superficial wounds rather than the horror movie massacre that they definitely looked like on the outside. Stark certainly wasn’t kidding when he said "anti-coagulative properties". 

Barton and Natasha had their fair share of bite wounds too, all similarly covered in patches of red. Thor and Stark didn’t escape unscathed either, having a few bite wounds scattered about their bodies—though Stark’s were only at the places where his armour had been ripped apart. Hulk was the only one among them that wasn’t bleeding at all, but he was _Hulk,_ so that didn’t really count. 

They probably looked like a collective, bloody mess, but in actuality, they were actually handling the situation very well, already a few minutes from completely eradicating the alien worms despite it being only less than an hour since the invasion started.

That didn’t stop the unicorn and chicken bird from dropping in to help out anyway, probably a little concerned about how all the Avengers were looking more like bloodthirsty vampires ready for a Halloween party than the honourable superheroes they were meant to be. 

The chicken bird joined Stark and Thor in the air, cawing once to greet them both and then diving up and down and flapping its flaming wings to burn the incoming worms to ashes. 

The unicorn came down to the ground, galloping about to support the grounded fighters, excluding Hulk, because Hulk certainly didn’t need the extra help, nor would he actually appreciate it. 

The unicorn went to Barton first, using its magic to immobilise a group of worms in the air and lining up a perfect shot for him. Barton grinned and let loose an explosive arrow, rapidly disintegrating the entire bunch of alien ghost worms. 

“Thanks, horsey!” 

The unicorn neighed in response, running over to Natasha to help freeze another group of worms midair. 

Natasha dispatched them with ease, casting a small smile at the unicorn in thanks. 

Finally, it came cantering towards Bucky, abruptly coming to a halt and tensing slightly at the sight of him practically drenched in his own blood. Its ears went a little flat and it made a noise, something between a mix of anger and worry. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Bucky said.

The unicorn looked entirely unconvinced. It made another soft disapproving noise, before jerking up to face the next wave of screaming worms getting ready to attack. 

With a loud neigh, the worms were immediately frozen in blue magic, tiny bodies wriggling and viciously biting to get free but to no avail.

It was a perfect invitation. Bucky pulled out the last grenade from his belt and ripped out the pin. Two seconds, and he tossed it into the aliens, promptly lunging back to take cover from the imminent explosion. 

A loud boom. 

When the dust cleared, there was nothing left of the worms except a few stray bits of glossy goo splattered on the ground. 

“Thanks for the assist.” 

The unicorn looked back at him and let out a snort, white fur still pure white and miraculously completely dust-free. Was it magic? It was probably magic. 

“Just a few more worms to take care of. Good job, team!” Stark announced over the comms. 

“Copy that,” Natasha responded.

Bucky cast a glance at the unicorn, saying, “Ready for a bit more?” 

It should have felt a little silly, talking to an animal like that, but for the unicorn? It seemed entirely appropriate.

The unicorn neighed a resounding yes, turning about and pawing the ground determinedly to get ready for battle. 

The sheer stubbornness embedded in the wiry muscles down its spine—it suddenly reminded Bucky of Steve again, that is, if Steve was less tiny-doll-shaped and more magic-horse-with-a-ridiculous-horn-shaped.

Bucky fought back a smile, reloading another explosive shot into his gun with a click. 

“Let’s go.” 

The unicorn whistled enthusiastically in reply. 

The last few alien worms started pouncing at them, screeching and exposing their endless rows of sharp teeth. Deceptively small, but they could still do a lot of damage in one go if they managed to strike at the right place. 

The unicorn froze the first few worms with its magic, giving Bucky ample time to blast them to bits. 

Next, a stray worm came pouncing in from the corner of his eye. Bucky stabbed it, then swiftly turned around to shoot the next batch of worms the unicorn laid out for him. 

Then—

A sharp pain at his ankle. Bucky cursed, leaning down for a second to viciously stab the sneaky motherfucker that had somehow managed to bite through all four thick protective layers of his boots and tear through skin. 

The unicorn whined in his direction, ears going flat. 

“I’m okay,” Bucky said through gritted teeth, reloading his gun and shooting the third batch of worms the unicorn helped to freeze. 

Bucky slashed and shot a few more stray worms charging in from the sides, and after unloading three more explosive shots, all the worms were finally done and dusted. 

“Last worm dead. Good job, guys!” Stark said, doing a quick flyby across the sky. 

Bucky lowered his gun and turned to the unicorn. 

“Thanks for the help.” 

The unicorn perked up, trotting over to Bucky and snorting once into his face. Its coat was still a pristine white, a sharp contrast to the deep red that Bucky was practically drenched in. It started nosing at Bucky’s arms, chest and back, taking extra care to avoid any of the still-bleeding bite wounds. 

“I’m okay,” Bucky said again. 

The unicorn snorted a second time and continued nosing at him, inspecting every part of Bucky to check that he was truly okay—which he very much _was_. The wounds weren't deep, and with his serum, he would be practically back to normal within a few days. It was nothing to be worried about.

A few minutes later, the unicorn finally seemed satisfied with its impromptu body check, stepping back slightly and making a soft crooning noise. 

It stood there swishing its tail back and forth, looking like it wanted Bucky to pet it, but there was absolutely no way Bucky was going anywhere near it with his filthy blood-dripping hands. To dirty a unicorn’s perfectly pristine coat—that would probably be considered an intergalactic crime of some sort. 

“Guys, time to regroup and debrief!” Stark called over the comms.

“Copy that,” Natasha replied, nudging Barton once and then shouting towards Bucky, “Bucky, let’s go!” 

Bucky nodded her way, about to break into a run to rejoin them when—

There was a piercing screech from behind him.

Bucky whipped around. 

A flash of something flitted across his eyes. Something white, but also not, more _translucent._

Wha—

A wriggling alien worm with bared teeth came pouncing in his direction—no, not quite his direction, more so towards the— 

Bucky’s mind went blank. 

He didn’t think, he just acted. 

He leapt out to the side, hands outstretched. 

“Watch out!” 

The unicorn flinched, and— 

Bucky felt a sharp searing pain at his neck. 

He gritted his teeth, pulling out one of his knives from his belt to slice away the stupid motherfucking worm and— 

His hand was completely soaked in red. 

Red that was not stopping—was _gushing._

Oh. 

_Oh._

“I—” 

Bucky’s chest suddenly seized up tight. _Fuck._ He instinctively pressed down onto the wound, but there was no stopping the flood of red from pouring out. Probably hit a damned artery. That wasn’t good. 

Before he knew it, the world tilted over. He toppled to the ground, a pool of fresh blood starting to accumulate beneath him. 

The unicorn let out a panicked cry, rushing to his side. 

“BUCKY!” Natasha and Barton yelled from far away. 

Stark barked into the comms, “What happened?! Bucky?!” 

The unicorn looked practically frantic by now, hooves and fur matted with Bucky’s blood. 

“No—” Bucky croaked. 

The unicorn cried out again, shutting its eyes tight and willing its horn to glow blue. 

Bucky felt the warmth of the unicorn’s magic settle on top of him like a soothing blanket, threading deep under his skin, going up to his neck and weaving into a tight layer over the torn artery. 

It held for a while, before suddenly snapping. 

Blood started spurting out again.

The unicorn let out a dismayed noise, stomping the ground once and trying again. Its horn glowed even brighter, and Bucky felt the second wave of magic wrap over him, sinking in. 

The magic snapped again, and blood immediately poured out. 

“It— It’s okay,” Bucky said, trying to sound firm but coming out as a whisper anyway. Fuck. He could barely feel his legs anymore. Everything was starting to go numb. This was bad. 

The unicorn shook its head and tried a third time, summoning as much magic as it could and flooding Bucky’s body with it.

Bucky felt the surge of warmth, the gentleness, then— 

It snapped. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky said again. “Don’t—” 

The unicorn stomped the ground. 

There was a bright flash of blue, then— 

_“No!”_

It was a familiar voice, but raw. Scared _._ It was _Steve_. 

“Steve?” 

Steve appeared out of the blue light where the unicorn once stood. Bright, cheerful Steve, but now with Bucky's blood dripping off his golden hair and with swollen red eyes brimming with tears. Steve… was the unicorn all along?

“No, no nono! Bucky!”

Steve pressed firmly down against Bucky’s bleeding neck, looking utterly distraught with tears starting to stream down his face. 

Bucky’s heart broke. Steve should never look like this. Steve should be smiling. _Happy._

Bucky wanted to reach out to him, but he could barely move anymore, fingers only managing to twitch feebly in Steve's direction.

"Damn it!" Steve cursed. He closed his eyes and started to glow blue, just like the unicorn did. 

The fourth wave of magic was more forceful, like a jolt of electricity. Bucky felt the energy rise in his body, peaking for a second, and then quickly fading.

“Why isn’t it working?!” Steve growled, panting heavily and looking very much worse for wear. Using all this magic was definitely taking a toll on him.

“A-anti coagulative properties,” Bucky said, vision starting to go hazy at the edge. He blinked a few times. "Steve?" 

"Don't talk! Just— Just conserve your energy and—" 

Steve shut his eyes, shakily trying to muster up the fifth wave of magic and—

" _I'm sorry,"_ Bucky croaked out. He couldn't feel much pain anymore. He couldn't feel much of anything, really, just a coldness not unlike the cryotube slowly creeping up his limbs and chest. 

There was no time. He needed to tell Steve. He needed Steve to know.

“I—”

"Stop talking! Bucky!!" 

Steve's eyes welled up with tears again, chest heaving. He tried summoning his magic again, but his glow quickly fizzled out, vanishing. 

"N-no! This can't—" 

Steve tried again, and again, and _again_ , all to no avail. 

He was out of magic. 

Steve broke into a sob, more tears streaming down his face.

"Bucky…" 

Bucky hated to see him like this. Hated even more that it was _him_ that got Steve looking so broken and scared. 

"Steve?" Bucky called again. He was running out of time. He needed to tell Steve _now_. 

"Shush, stop talki—" 

"Just so you know…" Bucky took in a breath, trying to get just a tiny bit more strength to keep his eyes open for one more second. 

"Bucky?" 

"I would have said _yes."_

"Wha— Wait, no! Bucky! _NO!!_ STAY AWAKE!! BUCK—" 

It was too much. 

Bucky closed his eyes and surrendered to the cold darkness.

\----------

Bucky was warm. Everything around him was warm and soft. Unbelievably soft. 

Was this the afterlife? 

But wasn’t hell supposed to be _cold_ , not warm? 

There was also an incessant beeping coming from somewhere beside him, a sound that definitely wouldn’t belong in a place like hell. Wouldn’t hell have more screams? Or cries?

Wait, where was he? 

Bucky pried his eyes open, wincing slightly at the light and blinking a few more times. 

His vision slowly cleared. 

“Oh hey, you’re awake.” 

It was Sam, peering over with a soft but tired smile on his face. And was Bucky seeing things, or was Sam glowing faintly orange? 

“How are you feeling?” 

Bucky blinked, trying to process what was going on. 

He remembered flying on the quinjet. The alien worms. Stark and Barton bickering over the comms. The unicorn coming down to help him. And then—

The bite wound—Bucky brought up a hand to touch his neck. Covered by bandages, but very much not bleeding. What on earth? 

He was… alive? But how? 

“You’re at the medical bay in the Avengers Tower. It was a close call, but Steve—” 

Bucky instantly shot up on the bed.

“Where’s Steve?” 

Sam blinked. 

“He’s… still unconscious, in a different room, but he’s fine.” 

Bucky frowned. _Unconscious?_

“He used up all his magic to save you,” Sam said quietly, looking away for a second. “It almost killed him.” 

A chill ran down Bucky’s spine.

“It—” 

“He’s _fine._ It was close. If I didn’t—” Sam let out a breath. “What matters is that he’s alive.” 

_Alive._

The chill didn’t settle completely, and Bucky swallowed. 

“Anyway, are you feeling okay?” Sam asked, flashing a smile again. “I did my best to get rid of the pain but uh, that’s not really my strongest suit. Steve’s better at it than I am.”

Did his best to get rid of the—

_Wait._

Bucky stared more closely at Sam, eyebrows furrowing. 

He definitely wasn’t imagining things. Sam was indeed _glowing_ —not Steve’s bright blue, but a flame orange, almost like—

It clicked. 

_The chicken bird._ Sam was the phoenix. Of course he was. 

“Uhm, thanks.” 

Sam shrugged. 

“It’s the least I can do.” 

“Will Steve be okay?” 

Sam nodded. “He’ll be fine. I managed to share my magic with him just in time, but he’ll still need a lot of rest before he can make a full recovery.” 

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. 

“He’s a stupid self-sacrificing idiot, that one, always pushing himself too much ever since he was a kid,” Sam continued, sighing out loud. “His entire species is practically genetically engineered to be like that. It’s honestly a miracle how they haven’t gone extinct yet.” 

Right, Steve’s _species,_ because Steve was the goddamn freaking unicorn—the same unicorn that Bucky fed and petted and _talked_ to. A mythical, legendary creature. 

And not to forget that Sam was also another one of those mythical, legendary creatures himself, though a slightly more feathered one. 

This was definitely going to take some time getting used to. 

“What about your species?” _The chicken bird species_ , Bucky was tempted to say, but was definitely glad he didn't. 

Sam snorted, giving a wry smile. “No, we’re not stupid like that.” 

At that very moment, the door suddenly burst open. 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Stark greeted cheerily as he walked in, though there was no hiding the twinge of concern underlying it. 

The rest of the Avengers streamed in after him, greeting Bucky and quickly filling up the small medical bay. 

Stark gestured towards Sam, or more accurately, the orange magic glow surrounding him.

“How’s the bibbidi-bobbidi-boo going on there, Fawkes?"

Sam rolled his eyes, the orange glow flashing for a moment. 

“Doing a better job than whatever lousy man-made painkillers you have on hand.” 

Stark let out an offended cry. 

“Excuse me, those painkillers have been perfectly formulated to work with Bucko’s insane metabolism and—” 

“You doing okay?” Natasha asked from the bedside, quickly drawing Bucky's attention to the left. 

“I’m fine.” 

Natasha flashed a rare soft smile at him, squeezing his hand once before letting go. “That’s good.”

“Next time, keep your carotid arteries safe and away from any spirit alien worms, yeah?” Barton said, popping out from the other side of Natasha. “Who else am I going to play Mario Kart with in this tower if you’re gone? Tony? Psh.” 

Bucky shrugged at him, and Barton grinned. 

Next was Banner’s turn, exchanging a shy smile before proceeding to basically interrogate Bucky with an endless list of questions regarding his physical well-being. Do you feel pain anywhere? Any headaches? On a scale of a papercut to getting impaled four times in a row by a venomous spiny porcupine alien, how bad is the pain? 

Thor interrupted with a tray of ‘essential sustenance’—a humongous plate of homemade spaghetti with meatballs and exactly one strawberry pop-tart at the side. “A mighty warrior must always keep his energy up,” he said.

Bucky took the tray with a muttered thanks, and even though he didn’t have any appetite, he still forced himself to eat a few mouthfuls of pasta in clear view of the Asgardian.

Soon enough, the quiet medical bay quickly turned into a noisy ruckus with all the Avengers inside. 

Stark was with Banner at one corner of the room surrounded by a bunch of holographic screens, drawing up new throat protection designs for the next series of the Avengers’ uniforms. Barton was in another corner practically begging Sam to turn into birdy and fly around in the air, to which Sam responded with a roll of his eyes and a firm 'no'. That left Natasha and Thor at the last corner, with Natasha patiently trying to explain to him the significance of Halloween and dressing up in costume. 

Normally, Bucky would be annoyed by all the noise, usually the first person to escape the scene and find some peace and quiet elsewhere, but for some reason today, it didn’t bother him at all. 

Quite the contrary, actually. 

It was strangely… nice, to have all of them just _being_ here. 

And so Bucky said nothing, continuing to eat his pasta while watching everyone else talk and bicker with each other. 

A warm feeling started creeping up, slowly filling up every cell of his body. 

To think that he could have lost all of this, could have lost _Steve_ —

Bucky’s eyes burned, and he blinked a few times, viciously stuffing a few spoonfuls of pasta into his mouth to distract himself from all the traitorous feelings bubbling up. 

He was alive. 

Steve was alive. 

And everyone was here, _with him._

\----------

Steve finally woke up five days later, and Bucky immediately jumped up and marched out to Steve’s room, ignoring all of JARVIS’s and Banner’s attempts to keep him back in bed. 

Bucky was going to see Steve no matter what, and it was clear that JARVIS and Banner knew it too, easily giving in to him after a few half-hearted complaints. 

Bucky dashed over to Steve’s room, taking a minute to compose himself outside before knocking on the door. 

“Come in,” came the muffled reply. Bucky opened the door, walking in. 

Steve was lying on the bed dressed in a simple hospital gown, and upon seeing Bucky, he instantly perked up. 

“Bucky!” 

He couldn’t help the burst of warmth he felt upon hearing Steve say his name, and he said back, “Hi, Steve.” 

Steve brightened up like the puppy he always was. God, it was so good to see him all smiling again, not in tears and with blood streaked all over his golden hair. Bucky shuddered. He didn’t want to see Steve like that ever again. 

“You’re— Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning Bucky from head to toe. 

Bucky nodded. “What about you?” 

Steve nodded as well. “I’m fine. Sam uh, helped me out a bit.” 

“ _A bit,_ ” Bucky muttered under his breath. Now that was an understatement. 

From what Bucky understood, Steve had drained himself completely dry of magic to save Bucky—the same magic energy that also doubled up as his life force. If Sam hadn’t arrived in time to transfuse over some of his own magic, Steve would have definitely perished right there and then.

Sam wasn’t lying when he said it was _close._

God, if Steve had actually died because of him—

Bucky quickly shook away the thought and let out a soundless sigh.

No. There was no point thinking about what could have been anymore. Steve was alive. Bucky was alive. That was all that really mattered. 

“You saved me,” Bucky said instead. 

To his surprise, Steve shook his head.

“No, you saved _me_. That bite—it was meant for me. I should have been the one who bled out and died, not you,” Steve said, looking down and sounding utterly miserable. “I’m sorry.” 

Bucky kind of wished he was all healed up and back to normal right this moment, because he _really_ wanted to roll up a piece of paper and whack Steve’s head with it. His stupid, _empty_ head. 

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky said. “You _saved_ me. You used up all your magic to save me, even though you knew what it would do to you.” 

“No, it was my fault that you were in that situation in the first place. I should have been the one to— _Ow!_ Bucky!” 

Bucky gave in to the urge to stomp over and smack Steve on the head with his hand. 

“You’re really an idiot.” 

Steve blushed, rubbing his head indignantly. 

“I’m not an idiot.” 

“You kind of are.” 

Steve grumbled something under his breath, but said nothing else. 

Bucky came to sit by Steve’s side, and Steve’s eyes wandered towards the bandages still wrapped around his neck, giving a pained look. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky said. “It doesn't even hurt anymore.” 

Steve opened his mouth, and Bucky immediately added, “If you’re planning to apologise, I’m going to whack you on the head again.” 

Steve’s eyes widened, immediately shutting his mouth and using both hands to protect his head. 

Bucky bit his lip to hold back a smile. Truly an idiot. 

There was a brief silence, before Steve spoke again. 

“So uhm…” 

Bucky waited.

Steve started twiddling his thumbs, refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

“So I guess you uh… _know_ now.” 

“Know what? That you’re a purebred idiot through and through?” 

Steve flushed red, shooting Bucky an offended look.

“I’m not an idiot! _You’re_ the idiot!” 

Bucky fought back a smile again. He couldn’t resist it sometimes—Steve was always so easy to rile up. 

“So?” 

“Well—” Steve blushed even redder. “You _know._ The truth. That I’m the uh, unicorn.” 

Bucky blinked. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, that,” Steve said, looking away and twiddling his thumbs yet again. 

Before Bucky could even say anything, Steve continued speaking. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier. I wanted to, but the right opportunity didn’t really come up and I—” Steve’s shoulders fell, looking so small and sad. “I don't have any excuses. I'm really sorry, Bucky.”

Steve was completely crestfallen, and Bucky kind of wanted to reach out to whack him on the head again. God, of all the billions of people in the world, why did Bucky have to gravitate towards _this_ particular idiot? 

Bucky sighed out loud, and Steve took that as a bad sign, continuing to ramble and looking smaller and smaller as he went along. 

“—I can understand if you’re mad at me, or if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore. I really didn’t mean to lie to you like this, that’s all on me. But uhm, anyway, the point is, if you… decide to change your mind about uh, going out with me, I’ll… I’ll understand. I’m really sorry, Bucky.” 

Steve looked like he was about to start crying, and Bucky had just about enough of all that. 

“You’re so stupid,” Bucky said. 

“Uhm.” 

“I’m not mad at you. I fight fucking aliens for a living, Steve. If you having magic and being a unicorn is a dealbreaker, I’m in dire need of a career change. I’m not changing my answer.” 

“But I—” Steve looked gobsmacked. “But I _lied_ to you!” 

“So?” 

“So you should be more mad, or at least upset, or, or—” 

“You want me to be mad?” 

“Well, _no_ of course! But you still have the right to be so, and—”

“You want me to change my answer?” 

“No, but—”

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“I— Well, I, I just—” 

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. And I’m not changing my answer,” Bucky said firmly. 

“You— I—” Steve started to flush red, breathing in and out for a couple of seconds before peeking up with a little more hope in his eyes. “I… _really?_ ” 

Bucky nodded, and Steve slowly started to smile again, back to his usual cheery puppy demeanour. 

“You’ll go out with me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Even though I’m a unicorn?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Really??” 

_“Yeah.”_

“That’s— You’ll— Oh my god, you said yes!” Steve started grinning wildly, laughing, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back.

God, Steve really was such a stupid idiot, but then again, if he wasn't one, Steve wouldn't be _Steve_ anymore.

“Anyway, I have one important question for you,” Bucky said. 

Steve glanced up, his smile fading. “Yeah?” 

Bucky paused.

“Were you born a horse or a human?” 

Steve blinked at him and burst out laughing. “That’s your important question??” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“I was born a human. We all are—including Sam. We uhm, don’t transform or develop our magic until we get a name.”

“Name?” 

“Yeah, a name. But it can’t be just any name though. It has to be important. It has to _mean_ something. I was named by a man named Abraham Erskine—he’s not from this world—but he adopted me and took care of me when I didn’t have anyone else. He named me after a legendary warrior from that world called Steven.” 

Steve chuckled once. 

“He was really surprised when I first transformed, but I think he took it well enough. I can tell you about it next time.” 

“Then how did you end up on Earth?” 

“Well, after the whole Chitauri incident, a lot of us got pretty curious about Earth. It’s not everyday you see a tiny planet be able to repel a powerful alien army, you know?” Steve said, shrugging once. 

“Anyway, I was curious too, so I decided to come visit one day. I didn’t actually intend to stay on Earth for long, I was just visiting for a bit, but then at that one battle, I saw you rush to save that little girl regardless of what would happen to you and I just—” Steve stopped, going a little shy. He started doing that twiddling thing with his thumbs again. 

“You see, unicorns have the ability to read auras. The Avengers have brighter auras than most people, that’s to be expected, but at that moment when you jumped to save the little girl, you were just _blinding._ I had never seen anyone’s aura shine so bright before.” Steve blushed. “I knew I had to find a way to get to know you after that, so I stayed and opened up the cafe and well… you know the rest.” 

Bucky had no idea what to say.

He suddenly felt all choked up, like there was a hard lump in his throat that he just couldn’t swallow down no matter what. 

His aura being _blinding,_ that’s just—

“You’re truly incredible, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s head snapped up. 

“I’ll say it a million times if I have to until you believe it. You’re kind, strong, brave—even after everything that you’ve gone through, inside and out, you’re just _amazing._ ” 

Warmth exploded at the base of Bucky’s stomach. Steve inched closer to him, fingers brushing lightly against his. 

“I…” All the words dried up in Bucky’s throat.

“I mean it, you’re an amazing person, Bucky Barnes. I can’t wait to go out with you.” 

Steve’s eyes were such a beautiful shade of blue up close—practically the exact shade as the unicorn’s. Even Steve’s hair was the exact same shade of gold as the unicorn’s mane and tail. How had Bucky not put two and two together earlier? 

Steve gently squeezed Bucky’s fingers, and Bucky’s heart started pounding faster. 

They stared at each other, the moment stretched to last for an eternity. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve suddenly blurted out, before flushing completely red.

Bucky’s heart thumped hard against his chest. 

It was a mystery how Steve could be shy one moment and suddenly grow a spine the next, but Bucky supposed that was just another trait to add to the ‘stupidly endearing list’.

Bucky swallowed, and nodded. 

Steve squeezed his hand once more and slowly leaned closer, inch by inch, always checking to make sure Bucky was still okay with everything. 

Steve slowly closed his eyes. Bucky did the same. 

They finally made contact in the middle, lips brushing and _oh_ —

It was like a jolt of electricity, but also warm like a candle flame, glowing brighter by the second.

Steve’s lips were gentle, almost impossibly soft, and Bucky had never felt so light, so _alive_ before. He never knew he was even capable of feeling something like this—or really, that he even deserved to feel something like this. But Steve—

Steve made him feel like he deserved every single bit of it and more, like he was worthy of all this, and Bucky _never wanted this moment to end._

When it finally did, both of them pulled away, still staring at each other. Steve’s lips were as pink as his whole face, but also soft and wet— _gorgeous._

"That was..." 

"Nice," Bucky finished, and Steve perked up.

"Yeah?" he asked shyly. 

Bucky nodded. 

Steve gently squeezed his hand once and smiled.

"Well, we can always do it again. As many times as you like."

\----------

Weeks passed, and things went back to normal surprisingly easily. A new normal. 

The Avengers quickly got used to Sam and Steve being the phoenix and unicorn, and within a short week, Steve had recovered enough to go back to his cafe, baking delicious apple desserts for everyone once again. 

Sam and Steve continued to help out in the Avengers’ battles as their respective animal counterparts, pretty much considered as official members of the team now, and, as the new official members of the team, they also got free invites to join the Avengers’ movie nights every week. They always brought over boxes of desserts to the tower for everyone to share—except for Bucky, who got a personal box of desserts all for himself (and Steve, of course). 

One of those nights, Bucky was fending off the usual vultures from his box of desserts again. 

“Aw man, why does Bucko always get his own box? That’s not fair. It’s favouritism, I tell you— Ooh, you have apple donuts. Can I have one apple donut? Just one?” 

“No, Tony,” Bucky said without really thinking, tugging the box closer to himself and Steve. 

The man in question suddenly gasped, jerking over like he was having a seizure of some sort.

What? 

“You called me _Tony!_ Oh my god, JARVIS, tell me you recorded it. This is a momentous occasion. I’m the first!” Tony declared, shooting a victorious grin at everyone else. 

“Bucky calls me by first name,” Natasha said from the side, smiling a little. “He calls Sam by first name too.” 

“You two have history, it doesn’t count. And Sam is different, he’s technically an outsider.” 

“Rude,” Sam huffed. 

“Okay, then what about Thor?” Natasha asked. 

“Everyone calls Thor, _Thor!_ Have you ever heard anyone call him Odinson?? _”_

“Loki calls me Odinson sometimes,” Thor said. "Mostly when he's mad." 

“Then Pepper?” 

“Pep’s _Pep!_ It doesn’t count either.” 

At that moment, Pepper herself sauntered into the lounge room dressed in a pair of fluffy sweatpants. She immediately walked over to snatch a cookie out from Tony’s hand. “That’s enough sugar for you.” 

“Oh come on, Pep!” 

“You’re going to get diabetes!!” 

“But I only ate two!” Tony protested. 

“He ate _four,”_ Natasha helpfully added from the side. 

Pepper gave Tony a look, and Tony glared at Natasha. 

“Traitor!” 

Natasha smirked.

“Okay, my turn then,” Clint popped up from the couch, grinning at Bucky. “What about me? When are you gonna stop calling me Barton?” 

Bucky sighed internally. Was this going to be a _thing?_

“Barton,” he said, just because he could, and then immediately felt a little bad when Clint’s expression fell somewhat. “Clint.” 

Clint brightened up. “You called me Clint! No take-backsies!”

Then finally, the last person joined them in the lounge room—Bruce, fresh out from his usual evening meditation session. 

“What movie are you guys watching today?” 

“We’re watching Mulan,” Clint said, turning to Bucky again and wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Hey, aren’t you going to greet dear _Brucie_ here?” 

Bucky sighed again. 

“Hi Bruce,” he said. 

Bruce blinked at him and smiled. 

“Hi Bucky.” 

“Okay, yes, hi. _Hi._ Are we done with all the hellos now? Can we finally watch the movie?” Tony said. 

Noises of assent came from everyone. 

“JARVIS?” 

The lights gradually dimmed, and the screen started playing the movie. 

A few seconds passed, before Steve bumped into Bucky amiably from the side, grinning. 

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“What about me?” 

“I call you Steve all the time, _Steve_.” 

Steve’s grin just widened, before he ducked his head down, blushing slightly. 

“Just wanted to hear you say it again.” 

\----------

Bucky was currently standing at the rooftop garden, the moon high in the sky and the cool winds blowing into his face. 

Steve was standing in front of him in unicorn form, nudging Bucky on the shoulder and flicking his tail back and forth like a dog.

Bucky still had no idea how Steve managed to talk him into doing this, but he was ninety percent certain it had everything to do with those ridiculous puppy eyes Steve kept shooting at him for the whole day (or week). 

"Are you sure this is safe?" Bucky asked.

Steve gave him a look, stomping the ground once. 

"I don't think my insurance covers 'falling off a magic horse'." 

Steve snorted and stomped the ground again, clearly saying "I'm not going to drop you, you jerk!" 

Objectively, Bucky trusted Steve with his life. He knew Steve would never drop him, and even if he did, Steve could easily use his magic to stop Bucky's fall. He had already demonstrated that clearly many times before. 

But subjectively, riling up Steve was a past time Bucky knew he was never going to get sick of. Steve was just so easy to tease, so easy to get a reaction from, and now with Steve being in horse form and unable to talk back, it just made it even easier (funnier). 

Not that Bucky was going to tell Steve that, of course. 

Steve trotted back a few steps, swishing his mane and snorting in Bucky's direction. 

"Okay, fine," Bucky said, walking up to him and hoisting himself over the massive horse in a single move. 

Steve looked over his back to check that Bucky was okay, and Bucky patted his shoulder in response. 

"I'm good." 

Steve snorted, trotting over to the ledge of the rooftop. He pawed the ground with a single hoof, turned around to check on Bucky once more before promptly rearing back, kicking off the ground with a single leap. 

A whoosh, and Steve was in the air. 

Cold air immediately slammed into Bucky, slapping his hair back. He instinctively tensed up, tightening his grip on Steve’s mane, and then— 

_Woah._

The sky was an enrapturing shade of midnight blue, the moon a luminous crescent with tiny stars twinkling beside and tufts of clouds lazily drifting by. 

Had the sky always been this vast? 

The buildings below looked so tiny by comparison, the cars even tinier still, almost looking like an army of luminous ants scurrying about on the streets. 

Steve snorted, surrounded by the warm blue glow of his magic as he gracefully glided through the air. 

Bucky slowly loosened his grip on Steve’s mane. Steve made a u-turn in the air, turning them around to bring the Avengers tower into full view. 

It was all smooth curves and sleek glass panels, with a large bright ‘A’ near the top, glowing a neon blue. 

Bucky had seen the tower countless times by now, but there was just something special about looking at it in the middle of the night on the back of a magic flying horse. 

Steve did a few more roundabouts in the air, giving Bucky a good view of the entire city. 

Then Steve turned his head to face Bucky, snorting questioningly. 

“You have something else to show me?” 

Steve’s ears perked up, and he whinnied softly, tossing his mane back. 

“Okay, I trust you,” Bucky said. 

Steve gave an affirmative huff. He started to glow even brighter, rearing back slightly as he started to climb higher into the air. 

Steve soared up higher and higher, and Bucky started to feel the air going colder and thinner. How high was Steve going to go? 

The city practically looked miniscule by now, just tiny specks of light down on the ground. The moon and stars seemed to be shining more brightly than before, even though they were all millions of light years away, and the clouds— 

Steve made a noise, then suddenly accelerated, charging straight through one of the thickest clouds in view. 

“Seriously, Steve?” 

It was like running through thick fog, dense but slightly moist. 

Bucky spluttered when he came out of the cloud, and Steve made a whistling noise before running straight for the next cloud. And the next. 

Another few more clouds later, Steve gradually descended to a more comfortable temperature below the clouds, slowing down to a gentle glide and just cruising through the air.

The wind was gentle against Bucky’s face, the air cold enough to be refreshing but not too cold that it felt like going back into the cryotube. With the moon and stars above and the bustling city below, everything suddenly felt small and insignificant. Just _peaceful._

Steve continued the leisurely flight, and Bucky brushed through the thick mane with his fingers. 

Steve made a questioning noise, and Bucky shook his head.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he reassured. “Just… it’s nice up here.” 

Steve made a happy whistle, ears swivelling up. 

Bucky smiled, more easily than he’d ever done before. He patted Steve’s shoulder once and looked out into the vast sky again. 

At that moment, everything was just right in the world.


End file.
